


Sovyonok Redux

by RangeWriter_B



Category: Everlasting Summer - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Communism, Continuation, Cussing, Everlasting Summer, F/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Russian, Self-Insert, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Underage Smoking, Violence, Visual Novel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 179,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RangeWriter_B/pseuds/RangeWriter_B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year has passed since the events of Everlasting Summer. The Sovyonok Young Pioneer Camp is back in session, and a new pioneer has arrived as a goodwill ambassador from the USA. However, just like a certain pioneer from the previous year, he has no recollection of how he has arrived in this time and place, nor how or if he will return home. In the meantime, he must learn to communicate and live with the many colorful people who inhabit the camp, as well as unravel the mystery of why he has been pulled from his pedestrian, modern life and placed into the former Soviet Union.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue/Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Everlasting Summer](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/353511) by Soviet Games/Dreamtale. 
  * Inspired by [Samantha](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/353514) by qsaka. 



> This is an author self-insert; the protagonist is written to mimic my reactions to canon characters/events, as well as illustrating factual character strengths and weaknesses. Includes canon characters, as well as OCs.

         **-Prologue-**  
  
         _One more won't hurt._

  
         Over a hazy, drunken stupor, I pulled this piece of genius from a sleepy subconscious, reaching across my cluttered desk yet again for my recently purchased bottle of vodka, which was quickly nearing its half-life. I’d never had Stolichnaya before in my life, but at the moment it seemed to be a bitter nectar of the gods.  
  
         I poured myself another shot, carefully watching the ever-clear liquid as it trickled forth from the tall, ornately-crafted bottle into my short little shot glass. I made sure to get it right at the brim before putting the bottle aside and swiftly bringing the drink to my lips in one smooth motion.  
  
         ** _*Glug*_**  
  
         Saturday night. I'd resigned myself to a plan at the beginning of the day; once I was free from overtime at work, my night would be dedicated to trying to write a song. Again.  
  
         No big deal -- just something I’d been trying to do for years, without success. But this time, I was determined to sit down with the guitar, let the lyrics just flow out, maybe get this one recorded to work on later.  
  
         _One damn song, already! Come on, hit those strings!_  
  
         This plan had something in common with plans from years gone by. Since I'd been an angsty teenager, I'd dreamt of writing at least one rock song. It was a desire I'd carried through to college. I'd met many people in that time, folks who didn't seem to have a problem with putting lyrics and notes on paper, then birthing those ideas into the world. Their classical and jazz compositions would fill countless notebooks, would actually be performed in front of people. Some of those compositions would never be heard again, after a lukewarm reception by an audience. Such was the life of aspiring musicians.  
  
         Yet, they still were performed, the players would bond, the groups would either move on or split into other projects. I'd hear about their accomplishments all over social media. In ways, they'd go places. Usually not far, but places. The rare few would accomplish feats that were truly enviable among those of us who struggled alongside them.  
  
          Not to say that I didn’t try myself. I played the game, took the classes in theory, hoping to make a career out of my music in some form. I wanted to be many things; among them, a worship leader, or an opera singer, or the leader of the next big neo-classical band, or... whatever I could manage. I wanted to create something that would capture imagination, inspire others --  or at least, provide me security in doing what I loved.

          I earned my Associate’s in Fine Arts; I learned later on, perhaps too late, that college degrees were more or less useless in a failing economy. Especially in the Arts, even when things weren't so tough.

          After a while, I lost the will to jump over endless hurdles. My aspirations were frequently met by brick walls; meat walls, too. Unless I forced myself into permanent debt to please both the teachers and students, I would never progress in my career path. I was faced with the choice of retiring all but one of my dreams.

          In the end, you could say I ended up retiring all of those dreams in the end. I felt it more prudent to have a stable job, try to keep my sanity and still perform, build something from the ground up.  
  
          I settled into a regular “nine-to-five” work philosophy. Hourly pay, five days a week, maybe more… working through my youth so others could have fun. On the job, when I’d huddle in the back room of the dismal department store at which I’d earn my bi-weekly pay, I’d tickle my ears with the aggressive stylings of rock, metal, and folk music. Every once in a while, I’d satisfy a guilty pleasure and listen to more complicated things; that music which required years and years of training. Violins. Big drums. Woodwinds.  
  
         I’d scribble in notebooks, write down countless little progressions and lyrics, promising myself that once I’d worked down my college debts, I’d save up a bit more and quit abusing myself in working a futureless retail job.  
  
         Then, at some point, I was going to assemble the greatest rock band ever in history and take on the world.  
  
         That was the plan. It wasn't a unique plan, and it definitely didn't carry guarantees. Nothing really does.  
  
         Years passed, and people came and went out of my life. Especially women, a true Achilles' heel. I'd watched my high-school sweetheart walk in and out of my life after having become “bored” with me, and I'd even watched her get married in recent times. My feelings for her had faded into near obscurity by then, wounds healed over by time. However, there was no denying that after nearly a decade of crashing and burning with one girl after another, I wasn’t making much progress in finding someone to relate with. Happiness continued to elude me in that regard.  
  
         On top of that, dreams of a musical future seemed far beyond reach as I’d switch from occupation to occupation. I’d go through phases of musical obsession, helping my friends to launch their groups, following them from venue to venue, making sure that their instruments worked, that I'd do networking in their circles in spare time. I’d learned some of the ropes of the business, stood backstage, dreaming of the day that I’d get out there behind the microphone, with my guitar and my friends, like an intrepid battle squad, and we’d sonically devastate the audience into loving us.  
  
         But again… there are no guarantees. That plan, too, faded into the background.  
  
         Years later, I'd eventually landed in a workable position at a high-end distributor of clothing and shoes. I drove forklift for them, earned a fairly decent paycheck; not enough to finally move out of my parents’ home, but enough to keep myself alive, clothed, fed. Enough to continue dreaming, go for the next thing my blind heart would desire.  
  
         On this particular night, I’d apparently earned enough to get myself royally hammered. Writing a song? Doing such a thing, in truth, was far from my mind. I had a few lines on a small sheet of paper in a tiny notepad—lines that had teased me all week, and my attempts to add to them had proven futile.  
  
  
          As I sat in front of my computer, guitar in my lap, distracting myself with no less than three different websites at once, along with listening to music and trying to come up with melody lines, I was feeling a mix of confusion and frustration at my lack of progress. Here we went again...  
  
         So out came the bottle after an especially long work week—six days straight, with overtime, sweltering in warehouse. I deserved a break, or so I believed.  
  
         _One to relax, get into the groove of things, and then get some work done on this song._  
  
         Then came a second. Sometimes it helps to try writing with an altered mental perspective, right?  
  
         Then a third.  
  
         Then a fourth-- _Aw hell, I want to be in a different zip code tonight. Bring it *cough* on!!!_  
  
         I lost track of how many shots I ended up taking. I remembered the first one being almost like water, smooth as honey on the way down. As things progressed, the supposed lifeblood of Russia was starting to bite my throat something fierce.  
  
         And just for supremely good measure, I tossed another one down in quick succession to the last. I set the empty glass down, stood back from my desk on unstable feet and put my guitar in its case, which was laying across my bed. So much for putting down another progression.  
  
         _I should move this stuff so I can lay down._  
  
         So began an argument inside my own head. Anyone who's been around me long enough knows just how often I'm buried inside my own mind. Like a pinball machine, I always have many thoughts exploding at once, and it's rare when I can get them all on the same track.  
  
         However, I only had two thoughts at that time, and they were duking it out like boxers.  
  
         _Keep trying to write..._  
_Lie down, you're drunk...._  
_Stay awake, enjoy being drunk!_  
_You're going to feel like crap, lie down..._  
  
         The thought battle continued, until finally my body decided to make a decision for itself. I felt myself sinking to the floor. It looked as though I'd be getting my deserved rest, leaning against my bed rather than on top of it.  
  
         _Another wasted night._  
  
         I remember that thought clearly. I still think about it to this day, and it has never lost its meaning.  
  
         My vision faded. My eyes became heavy. I felt myself cough, distantly, as though I was floating away from my own body. An incredible warmth surrounded my being, and before I knew it, sweet, drunken slumber overtook me.  
  
         _It'll all... work itself out in the morning. I'll have the whole day..._  
  
_Another day…_  
  
  
== == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == == ==  
  
  
         **Chapter 1 – Waking Up**  
  
         Consciousness faded in slowly—like rising to the surface of the water after having pitched oneself to the bottom of a very deep pool of water. The warmth that I had basked in during slumber turned to a flash freeze. I felt like needles were stabbing every pore of my body. I gagged and wheezed, my lungs aching for air.  
  
         _Brightness._ Through my eyelids I could see intense white, like someone was shining a giant spotlight in my face. I couldn't focus; it were as though I'd been sitting in a darkened theater for who knows how long, and was suddenly faced with seeing in natural daylight.  
  
         _Natural daylight_. This certainly cannot be right. I was in my bedroom, the last time I checked. Even with the shades pulled up during the middle of day, it was never this bright. There were no birds chirping, either; not in my bedroom. Here I could plainly pick them out between the ***thump-thump...thump-thump** * of my heartbeat. Immense pain between my temples...  
  
         _Hangover from Hell. Good job._

          I coughed again, finally taking in mouthfuls of warm air. Fresh air, thick and heavy with the smell of grass.  
  
         _Where the hell am I?_  
  
         I hoped to God that I hadn't become one of those stories I'd heard often about people getting stone-cold drunk, then waking up in the strangest of places. Those stories never ended well. At least not for the person involved; the storytellers and listeners could always get a kick from such things; it wasn't happening to them.  
  
         I lifted my head off the ground, feeling pebbles that had lodged in the soft flesh of my cheek fall away. Through half-opened eyelids, I could see blue skies, confirming the hypothesis that I'd ended up outside somehow. If I was lucky, there were no neighbors to see my plight and post about me on social media.  
  
          _I've always wanted to be on Youtube, but not this way,_ I thought, righting myself. It was still hard to breathe, but with every second I was getting hold of the concept.  
  
         _In, out, take a few more._  
  
         The heavy aftertaste of vodka, coupled with morning breath was strong with me, and I scrunched my face. “Get yourself some help, damn it,” I said aloud to myself, throat dry and hoarse.  
  
         Standing up, I began to brush the dirt from my clothes. I was perturbed by the fact that I hadn't even bothered to take my shoes off when I came home the previous afternoon; I'd been so focused on writing, typing, then drinking, that I didn't bother to dress down after a long day of work. I could feel my wallet, my keys, and my cell phone in my pants pockets. The true definition of a class-act.  
  
         After surveying myself, I figured that I didn't look as bad as I felt. Plus I could see more or less clearly, except for the world itself, which kept wanting to shift like the decks of a ship on rough seas. This hangover was going to be the death of me if I made the wrong move.  
  
          My surroundings consisted of a roughly-paved road, stretching into the distance through small foothills and tall grass. There were huge trees spread about; Oaks? Spruce? Maples? I wasn't a botanist, but something didn't seem quite right about them. High-voltage power lines ran parallel to the road, buzzing faintly.  
  
         “Okay... this isn't good.” I mumbled, taking out my phone, trying not to see my reflection in the glass; didn't want to face Coyote Ugly alone. The time was a bit past 9 am, but something was wrong; no network. This meant that I had no idea where I was at the moment.  
  
         It sure didn't look like the California desert I was acquainted to. There were no mountains to really speak of, no endless fields of dirt and brush. It was very green and muggy here, already heating up. On top of that, this place was far too isolated. I was used to hearing the swish of car tires on asphalt, of engines. Maybe a train or an airplane. There was nothing here but the sounds of nature.  
  
         _Maybe I wandered to the lake,_ I thought. There was one not too far from my neighborhood. In theory, I could have drunk-walked all the way there. Quite the feat, still, especially at night.  
  
          “Здравствуй.” [1]  
  
         I turned around, startled by the sudden presence of a human voice. I was more than my share of disoriented, and it didn't help that I was being snuck up on.  
  
         My movement was a bit too fast, and I had to take a few seconds while my vision wobbled back and forth. Somehow I registered a girl: tall, blonde-haired. She was dressed immaculately, wearing a uniform of some sort: a white dress shirt with a yellow-and-red patch on the left arm; a navy-blue pleated skirt cut just below the thighs; a long red kerchief that draped over her shoulders and came to a neatly-done knot below her neckline.  
  
         Topping this off with white knee socks, neat little blue flats and a shiny brass belt buckle, the girl definitely looked sharp. In ways, she reminded me of a flight attendant. The only problem was that we sure as hell weren't on an airplane, and she looked very young, in her late teens at the most. A schoolgirl, perhaps? Or a scout?  
  
         “I'm sorry?” I replied, trying my best not to look as drunk as I felt. I knew I was failing miserably at that.  
  
         She spoke again, looking at me with a slight bit of calculated concern. I couldn't make out a word of what she was saying. It wasn't my hangover that kept me from understanding her; it was a completely foreign language. A couple of sentences came my way that sounded like questions, but I hadn't the slightest clue of what to say.  
  
          I tried my best to look apologetic, raising my hands up in defeat. “I don't know what you're saying. Please forgive me. Is there a... phone? Telephone?” I made the universal hand gesture -- thumb up, pinky finger down.  
  
          Her eyebrows raised a bit, perplexed at my query. Either she had a slight idea of what I was asking for, or she was completely lost, perhaps scared. I suppose I couldn't really blame her; say otherwise all I wanted, I knew that I looked like a train wreck. The way my stomach felt, there was going to be an emergency in short order if I didn't at least sit back down. I could only imagine what was going through her mind about me at that moment.  
  
          She reached out gently touched my arm, speaking once more in her unfamiliar language, then turned and quickly walked away through a set of heavy iron gates. They were solid, gray in color with the cutout of a star in between them. I looked up, seeing bold lettering on an iron arch above: **Совёнок.**[2]  
  
         On opposing sides of the gate were two concrete statues: The one on the right was a boy in a scout's uniform, sounding a bugle or trumpet. The statue on the left was a girl, dressed in a similar fashion to her male counterpart, looking into the distance through a spyglass. They bore a resemblance to the girl who'd just addressed me.  
  
         It didn't take much intuition, but something was dangerously wrong with this whole picture. This wasn't home or anything like it. I'd woken up in a whole other country, or worse, the compound of some religious cult. My mind began to fire off in many different directions, which didn't help my headache at all.  
  
         An indeterminate amount of time passed, and my new friend returned, this time joined by two others. One of them was a woman, tall, dressed in a similar uniform. It was obvious that hers had more miles on it; worn and supple, but still holding together immaculately. From under a white, round-brimmed hat came thick, long auburn hair, flowing far past her shoulders. Perhaps it was the hangover talking, but she looked like a supermodel from yesteryear -- built like a brick shit house, as some say. Her body was strong, muscular and healthy in ways that made her stand out from most. A Frazetta masterpiece. 

          The other was a boy; quite a beautiful one, in fact -- speaking in a completely relative sense. His bushy blonde hair, delicate facial features and lanky, slim build gave him the vibe of a prince. Perhaps not the kind that would ride a horse into battle, but would certainly sip endless amounts of tea, quote Shakespeare and play the lute while his raiding party would fight the bad guys.

          With piercing green eyes focused on me, the woman stepped to the front, cautiously sizing me up. She had to be in her late twenties, perhaps even her thirties. The way that she carried herself was strong, professional -- likely, she was the one in charge around here. A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Ну! Речь идет о времени. Вы посол, да?"

          "Huh?" I asked, my intelligence at an all-time low.

          Her eyebrows lowered as she repeated herself. "Вы посол?"

          I didn't understand. It sounded familiar, but my pickled brain still wasn't firing on all cylinders. I knew it wasn't German; I knew a fair amount of that. It definitely wasn't Spanish, or Italian, or French... Russian?  
  
_Russian,_ I thought. Now that I thought about it, the sign above the gate was a slight giveaway that I had to be somewhere in eastern Europe, which wasn't a thought I wanted to entertain; how the _hell_ was I going to get home if I'd somehow gotten my drunk ass all the way across the globe?  
  
          To make matters worse, I was in a completely unknown area with no idea who to call or where to go. And now I was apparently at the gate of some official establishment that would soon flag me as some sort of psychopath or predator.  
  
          She spoke to me again, her expression hardening. "Брион, да?  Вы только что пришли? Где находятся ваши вещи? Как насчет охранников?" 

          I could have sworn that she'd said my name, but I wasn't entirely sure. I gave her a similar response to the one I gave the younger girl, shaking my head.  
  
          Finally, the guy spoke up. He had a very heavy accent, but "Hello?" was easily understandable.

          I smiled. “Yeah, hi. Thank you... I speak English.” I realized how stupid I sounded, but the damage was already done.          

          He laughed and spoke to his cohorts, no doubt informing them of the fact that I was completely alien to them. The blonde girl shrugged and smiled, seeming less nervous, now that I could be communicated with.  
  
         The older woman spoke to me yet again, words flying by my ears at a thousand syllables per second. The guy bit his lip, presumably trying to phrase whatever she was saying in a proper manner. “Olga Dmitrievna says to welcome... We waiting to you. Understand?”  
  
         “I don't... I just woke up. I don't even know where I am...”  
  
         My voice trailed off, my hangover kicking down the door of my consciousness. I was in trouble; a few seconds more of this exchange and I'd be losing my stomach contents right in front of, or worse, _on_ these three.  
  
         Luckily, the guy and gal were right handy at their duties, and they caught me by both arms; I was apparently on my way down, the earth leaning heavily again.

         Before I knew it, I was being led through the heavy steel gate, carried practically on their shoulders. The woman was still rattling away, but I'd stopped caring at the moment.  
  
         _This is all too much... I just want to go home, damn it!_  
  
         I was led down dirt paths, some with patchy asphalt. Trees...  
  
         Being descriptive wasn't going to work at the moment. My eyes seemed to be fluttering of their own accord, and although I was still on my own feet, I felt like I was seriously burdening the two helpful kids who were trying with all their might not to drop me.  
  
         “Thank... thank you...” I mumbled at one point.  
  
         “позже!” replied the guy, grunting under my weight.  
  
         This went on for a bit. I did my best, stumbling through the dirt, trying not to fall. I could still hear the older lady behind us, going on about something or other... then she disappeared, sounding as though she were scolding someone completely unrelated to the situation at hand.  
  
         “Почти закончили! Hold on, friend...”  
  
         I was abruptly pushed through a door, into a room that was delightfully cooler than outside. With some fuss, I was dumped onto a bed, which became my vehicle for the roller-coaster ride that had become the world itself. I needed a safety belt, lest I fall out...

          I could hear voices around me, skipping like a scratched CD... I could recall being given a bucket.

          I could recall making use of that bucket, as well. My stomach ran in reverse, expelling the mistakes that I'd made the previous night. I was given water afterward, medicine...

* * *

 

           After a while, I found myself lying down, staring at the wall, feeling slightly like my normal self. The room was no longer leaning as much, and my stomach was empty, thank God. My breathing was also getting slower and deeper, a definite plus.  
  
          Turning over, I realized that I'd been taken to some sort of infirmary. There were various cabinets spread throughout the room, along with posters of medical diagrams. It was very much like a doctor's office, just without a waiting room.  
  
          There was one other person with me, sitting nearby: A tall, voluptuous woman with black hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail. She wore a white uniform that went down past her thighs, her long, sculpted legs crossed as she wrote quietly at her desk. I'd managed to maroon myself in a land that had more attractiveness per capita than anywhere in the world, apparently.

          “Nurse?” I asked.

          She looked toward me, her eyes seeming like they could pierce through any mental defense, red and blue irises staring straight into the soul behind a pair of stylish reading glasses. This... was not natural. But who was I to judge?  
  
           Rolling toward me on her stool, delicately touched my forehead with one hand, placing a cold stethoscope to my chest to listen to my breath. I tried not to make it obvious, but I was getting quite the show as she leaned over to examine me. Her outfit had a dramatically swooping neckline that any red-blooded male would take instant notice of. The sly smile on her face told me that I wasn't fooling her.   
  
         The nurse spoke to me then; like everyone else, she spoke in Russian. She had a deep, sinfully sultry tone to her voice. Of course, I had no idea what she was saying to me at all.  
  
         _“Sprechen sie Deutsche?_ I asked.

          She shook her head. "Нет."

 _“Italiano?”_  
  
         " _Certamente parlo Italiano, ma onestamente dubito che si fa."_ She replied with a self-indulgent chuckle. [3]  
  
         _Shit._ Her Italian was way more advanced than mine. I didn't even want to try and remember the little French I'd learned. “English?”  
  
         “You should have said so,” she answered, a heavy but understandable accent behind her voice.  
  
         A treat for my ears! She spoke my language! I felt like I was saved again. “I'm sorry for the trouble, miss...”  
  
         “Violetta. Nurse Violetta.”  
  
         I nodded. “Nurse Violetta. Thank you.”  
  
         Violetta finished her examination and slid back over to her desk, scooping up a clipboard before rising up on black high heels, standing tall on a spotless, gleaming tile floor. She scribbled a few notes, calmly pacing back and forth in front of me. “It is not often that a young man such as yourself arrives at our camp with a heavy case of... let us not beat around the bush, as they say: Severe intoxication.”  
  
         “Yeah, about that... I...”  
  
         She stopped pacing and stood facing me, looking amused. She removed her reading glasses, letting them hang from the lanyard around her neck. “No need to apologize to me, young man. However, Olga Dmitrievna is the disciplinarian here. She will surely have plenty to scold you for.”  
  
         I took a guess, although I had little evidence to go on. “She's the one with the white hat, correct?”  
  
         Violetta nodded. “Yes. Do yourself a further favor: to care to address her by her full name. I know it isn't common for you Americans to know, but she is in a position where it is required.”  
  
         I shuddered. How did she know that I was an American? My wallet was still in my pocket, and even then, my driver's license didn't say specifically what country I was from.... perhaps my social security card? There were surely times where she could have taken my wallet and then put it back...  
  
         “How do you pronounce your name?” she asked, scribbling away.  
  
         I paused, my throat dry from general principle – I wasn't quite one-hundred percent yet. “Brion. Like Brian, but with a different spelling.”  
  
         She nodded again. “Very interesting... I am going to discharge you now, Brion. The worst of your... sickness... should be over. I do expect that you'll take care of yourself from here on, being that you're our honored guest.”  
  
         “Honored guest?”  
  
         She ignored my question and went back to her desk, leaning down to place the file into a cabinet. “I recommend you do your best to learn Russian language while you are visiting us. It will be very useful to you. Few of us are fluent here.”  
  
         My headache came back for a split second, but I shook it off. “How do I learn Russian? Is there...”  
  
         She turned back to me, leaning against her desk, arms crossed. “Just down the path from here, on the very end; there is a squarish little building. Our library has a very gifted young lady by the name of Zhenya.”  
  
         “Jane?”  
  
         Violetta shook her head. “Zhenya.” She stated again, slowly pronouncing the soft “J” at the front. “She can assist you. I recommend going there now, while Olga Dmitrievna is busy and the pioneers are distracted with activities.”  
  
         I could put two and two together. Well, almost. Pioneers, Olga Dmit... Dmi... _Damnhernameisgonnakillme_. Like others, she didn't seem to understand my predicament at all. Having a constant language barrier was going to cost me dearly if I didn't make tracks.  
  
         I stood up, surprised that I actually had balance. I felt more or less like me, but it'd still be a while before I'd classify as normal. I went to the door and cracked it open.  
  
         “Thank you again, Violetta. I am in your debt. Er... _Grazie, Signora Violetta. Grazie sai."_  
  
         She smiled. “Think nothing of it, _Bello_. And let me be the first to welcome you to _Sovyonok_. May your stay here be... educational,” she told me with a wink.

* * *

         I exited the infirmary and almost immediately began to sweat. The sun was high in the sky, cooking the brick path that lay beyond the porch and awning where I currently stood.  It had to be at least forty Celcius out here.  
  
          A thought occured to me: _Celcius? Why am I thinking Celcius? I'm an American, it's Fahrenheit, for God's sake!_  
  
          I decided against having a further mental argument with myself and began my trek down the path leading to the library, the chittering of birds and croaking of frogs in the surrounding woods enveloping me. For what it was worth, it was very serene, while also being stifling. Thick foliage was everywhere, unkempt in some places, while other parts seemed too calculated in placement. Just what kind of place was this _Sovyonok_ _?_

          Even with Violetta's advice, I still was unsure of what to look for; no two libraries looked alike, and without the ability to read the occasional signs along the path, I could easily get lost.  
  
         Which I did. I wandered for a good fifteen minutes at least, ending up at a large open court with a monument—an empty pedestal, to be exact. From the looks of it, there used to be a statue there, but two large, crumbling divots in the concrete gave evidence of a hasty removal. There were signs pointing in different directions, but I knew that I'd screwed up.  
  
         I was about to turn back the direction I came when I heard the scuffle of fast footsteps behind me. I spun around to see a short girl -- preteen or slightly past that—smiling widely at me, hands on her hips. She had outrageously thick, long red hair pulled back into two large pigtails, and wore a t-shirt -- a Metallica t-shirt, of all things -- that looked several sizes too large for her, along with tan short pants. She looked dirty and sweaty, like she'd been rolling around in the bushes all morning.  
  
         “ _Privet!_ ” she said cheerfully.  
  
         This was simply not the time, but I didn't want to be rude. I answered back, “ _Privet_ ,” undoubtedly in the worst accent imaginable.

          "Ey, ty zdes' noven'kiy?" Her blue eyes went as wide as dinner plates, matching her Cheshire Cat smile.

          I immediately regretted not asking Violetta to at least teach me to profusely apologize, as I'd been making a habit of all morning. I shrugged and attempted to move past the young lady, trying not to continue our conversation.  
  
         “Ey, kuda ty idosh' Ey! Ey! Ey!” [4] Although I was mobile, the girl with the flame-red hair began to run circles around me, making me dizzy. How in the hell could she move so much, so fast? I felt like I was in a bad dream, and a character from an anime show was attacking me.  
  
         I thought about it briefly: _Am I dreaming?_  
  
         There was no way. For all intents and purposes, everything happening was real. Very bizarre and unexplained, but there was no way in hell I was having a dream this detailed and... Ludicrous. These things simply don't happen in dreams!  
  
         “Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying!” I said to the unstoppable rocket that had now resorted to hopping around me, while still running! Back to that old noise.  
  
         She halted for a second, tilting her head slightly. She made even less sense to me now, as though I’d been given an ignorance penalty by the universe. “Что это за язык? Это код? Говори по-русски, тупица!”[5]  
  
         Yep, I was a goner. Stopping to argue would be absolutely futile, so I began to jog -- which turned into a run -- back toward the infirmary. I needed help, badly. I didn't want to keep bothering the nurse. I was a grown adult, and I didn't need to put up with this, but... damn!  
  
         Unfortunately, my plan was hampered. As I made to bound up to the door, I came face-to-face with another girl, an older and taller one than my current pursuer. She was blocking the way with a sassy stance, arms crossed. This one was more around my height, with strawberry-blonde hair held curiously and sharply aloft by heart-shaped barrettes framing a heart-shaped face.  
  
         With vivid amber eyes boring a hole straight through me and a somewhat quizzical, guarded expression, I got the impression that trying to knock her over on the way in probably wasn't the best idea. Unfortunately, asking politely that she move was also out of my skill set at the time. With her demeanor, I doubted that she'd move even if I  _did_ ask.  
  
         “Эй, Алиса! Лови, лови, лови его!" [6] My pursuer yelled, bright youthful glee in her voice.  
  
         With a crooked eyebrow and a grin, the taller girl aggressively scuttled left and right, then charged at me.  
  
         “Hey, hey! Come on!” I yelped. I narrowly dodged her, and she quickly came back around to lunge. I was not about to get into a physical fight, especially with a girl, but she didn't seem to care. This was all a game to the both of them.  
  
         Again she tried to take me down, smashing into my side with a glancing blow. I still retained my footing, but I had to “pass” her to the shorter girl, who had taken position in front of the infirmary door to block my escape. I put my hands around her waist and threw her, making the two collide, then immediately broke into a sprint, going in the completely opposite direction.  
  
         My move didn't confuse them for long; I could hear the pitter-patter of both sets of feet slowly gaining on me. There was no way I could ever outrun them; I was nowhere near prime condition, thanks to my disappearing hangover.  
  
         The path came to an end, and I finally remembered what Violetta told me: A squarish little building nearly surrounded by shrubbery and trees, almost as though it was emerging from the earth. It _had_ to be the library.  
  
         But what would I do, just burst into someone's study space and cause a scene? I was in enough trouble already!  
  
         I finally gave up. There was simply no way to win in this scenario, so it was best to just face the music. “Okay... okay...” I gasped, turning and putting my hands out. I was stooped over like a man at the brink of total exhaustion, sweating fiercely like a zombie-day survivor, now faced with a final and ultimately fatal decision.  
  
         The Flame-- that was all I was going to call her for the time being-- caught up with me first, of course. There was simply no stopping her nuclear reactor. She was hopping in a small pattern like a chipmunk, rattling on cheerfully about something. I presumed that whatever she was going on about, it wasn't something meant to uplift my spirits.  
  
         Finally, the taller girl caught up with the both of us, and her eyes were burning with fury, mouth bent in a sinister smile. Her hands were in fists, motionless at her sides. “Ты тронул меня…” she growled. [7] Whatever it was, it wasn't good.  
  
         I was caught between fight-or-flight modes. I wasn't keen on curling into a ball and crying like a baby, but the thought that I'd have to physically fight at least one of these girls wasn't attractive either.  
  
         “I'm sorry, look, please...” I said, trying not to sound like I was panicking—which I most surely was—“I don't know what to do...”  
  
         Just then, another person arrived on the scene: it was the blonde girl who’d met me at the gate, back where this all started. She looked annoyed, to say the very least. There was something authoritarian in the way that she carried herself, and at the sight of me being cornered she stepped boldly forward, coming between the three of us.  
  
         Super long, braided blonde hair, eyes that were a deep, almost ocean blue... She was strikingly beautiful, slender and well-built. I prayed that I hadn't done anything to piss _her_ off, too. I could hardly believe that I had stood before such a girl while obviously blitzed out of my mind. “Алиса! Ульяна! Оставьте его в покое сейчас же!” [8] she barked in a firm, expressive tone.  
  
         The strawberry blonde -– It sounded like her name was Alisa -– stopped in her tracks, still glaring at me. “Он облапал меня!”[9]  
  
         “Меня не волнует! Оставьте его в покое, или я доложу Ольге Дмитриевне о вас обеих!” [10] The blonde stomped her shoe affirmatively on the ground, eyes intense with aggression. Damn, she was scary when she was mad!  
  
         The Flame seemed to have either a short attention span or a better sense of when to cut her losses, because she smiled and took off into the bushes. I could only assume that I hadn't seen the last of her.  
  
         Alisa gritted her teeth, stepped around my savior and growled loud enough for only me to hear, speaking slowly as she passed. “ _Ya do tebia yeshcho  doberus'._ ”[11]  
  
         With that, she shot a final incendiary look over her shoulder before disappearing around the side of the building. She obviously wasn't in love.  
  
         Now I was left with the blonde, who stood before me with a somewhat apologetic and relieved look on her face. It didn't look like she was gunning for me. Yet.  
  
         “I don't suppose you speak English?” I asked.  
  
         She smiled and shook her head, obviously knowing at least that much. Not enough to answer verbally, but she knew what I meant.  
  
         I put my hands together and bowed, which was all I could think of doing. “Thank you.”  
  
         The girl smiled sweetly and continued to stand there, as though I were the most interesting thing around at the moment. I made a mental note to learn Russian as quickly as possible, if only to speak with _her_ properly. I simply couldn't let one like her get away! Her graceful Slavic features practically begged to be admired and spoken to... gently. Very gently... amongst pillows.  
  
          A creaking sound came from behind me, the door to the library opening. I turned to see yet _another_ young lady, a bit on the short side, with messy black hair, a cute, round face and a compact, yet healthy build. She stared at the two of us through a pair of oval-shaped spectacles, a slightly obvious look of annoyance on her face. “Что тут за гам?” she asked.  
  
         Perhaps she was wondering about the noise. Well, _duh!_ Of course! Why wouldn't she investigate all the racket going on outside the library? Once again, I felt like dirt. I was getting on everyone's nerves today, including my own.  
  
         “Женя, это наш гость. Ему нужно научиться говорить по-русски, и как можно скорее,” my new friend answered for me.[12]  
  
         My ears perked up at “Женя”. So, this was the aforementioned Zhenya. She gave me a puzzled look. “Вы посол?”[13]  
  
         “Maybe,” I replied.  
  
         Yes, I was being very stupid; Zhenya laughed, then she relayed in Russian to the blonde, who laughed in return. If there were a way to spontaneously combust at that point, I gladly would have set myself to ashes. I felt like I was back in middle school again; no friends, no hope other than that of making it to the next day. Repeat cycle, get in a fight, repeat again...  
  
         “Okay, I'm very sorry,” she finally said, this time in very clear and precise English. “You understand now, correct?'  
  
         I nodded. “Yes, I do.”  
  
         She looked back to my friend once more. “Славя, Ну я его у тебя забираю тогда. Я прослежу, чтобы он занимался. Спасибо.”[14]  
  
         With that, my savior nodded, gave a slight curtsy and sauntered away down the brick path. I owed her big time, for sure.  
  
         “Now as for you...” Zhenya looked at me again, sizing me up as though I were some sort of science experiment. “Let's step inside, shall we?”

  
====================================

**Translations**

[1] "Hello."

[2] "Sovyonok", meaning "Owlet" in Russian.

[3] "I certainly speak Italian, but I honestly doubt that you do."

[4] "Hey, where are you going? Hey! Hey! Hey!"

[5] "What language is that? Is that code? Speak Russian, stupid!"

[6] "Hey, Alisa! Catch him, catch him, catch him!"

[7] "You touched me."

[8] "Alisa! Ulyana! Leave him alone, now!"

[9] "He touched me!"

[10] "I don't care! Leave him alone, or I'll report you both to Olga Dmitrievna!"

[11] "I'll get you later."

[12] "Zhenya, this is our visitor. He needs to learn how to speak Russian, very quickly."

[13] "Are you an ambassador?"

[14] "Slavya, I'll take it from here. I'll make sure that he studies. Thank you."


	2. Welcome Home

          For the moment it felt good to be told what to do. I'd been caught in a whirlwind of events for so long that being given actual instructions was beneficial to my morale.

          At least, that was what my addled mind told me. I still wasn't feeling too well; running around in the heat, scared out of my wits probably wasn't helping matters. I was sweating like crazy, and it was a bad sweat; I reeked heavily of vodka. Zhenya seemed to notice, as she took one whiff of the air around me and immediately looked upset. “Have you been _drinking?!_ ” she asked.

          “Not today, I promise.” _What the hell kind of answer was that?_

          She crossed her arms, not satisfied. “What kind of answer is _that?_ ” She near-parroted my own mind.

          “A smart-assed one. Sorry.” I was saying “sorry” a record number of times as of late. It was like I was playing one of those stupid drinking games where if you don't do some repetitive task – such as say a certain phrase every round, like “sorry” – you lose and have to drink.

          I obviously wasn't doing myself any favors; I was even thinking about drinking at that very moment. What was wrong with me? I wasn't an alcoholic, but I did have my moments; especially those ones where I wake up in Russia.

          “So, Mister Ambassador, you've arrived unprepared to our country and our camp.” Her tone was rather arrogant for her being so young. I didn’t particularly care for it. “And I assume you think that learning Russian will be easy?”

          “Actually, I know it won't be easy at all. But I don't have options... and why did you call me 'Mister Ambassador'?” I asked.

          My question was ignored. “I hear from your rather 'flat' accent that you're surely not from Britain. Which means...” She stared at me for a good few seconds, which turned into at least fifteen. I wasn't sure if she was waiting for a response from me. She seemed lost in her thoughts.

          “I'm an American.” I finally volunteered.

          “Yes, I figured that. I am attempting to fathom why your country would send you here so ill-prepared at your age, to a nation that it views as an enemy.”

          I put my hands up defensively. “I'm not sure what you mean, but as far as I know, our countries are friends. In fact, Russia does well for itself in ways that we...”

          I stopped talking. Zhenya's face had taken an expression of complete confusion, and it looked like we'd stepped onto a very bad topic of discussion.

          Perhaps it was the small badge on her shirt—a red flame emblem with the profile of Lenin—that gave me a major tip that things were very, very amiss round here. Taking from my knowledge of modern-day Russia, Leninism wasn't exactly an everyday topic of discussion. It'd been a while since Russia was known as the Soviet Union...

          Had I traveled back in time? Did I fall asleep and miraculously disappear into the past, waking up hungover in a street in the old Soviet Union? Or was I still in the States, and this was some strange sort of re-enactment I’d somehow gotten roped into?

          I realized how idiotic it all sounded, but any one of those theories had merit. Even so, I had no idea how to defuse Zhenya, who was beginning to look around nervously. “What's wrong?” I asked.

          “Nothing! Nothing at all. Just...” she trailed off.

          “Yes?”

          Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “You're not a spy, are you?”

          My jaw dropped. “A spy... who comes right to you and can't even communicate properly in the native language. Reeking of booze, running from teenage girls. Yep, I'm just a regular James Bond, Zhenya. You've got me.”

          I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to continue sassing her like I was, but I couldn't think of any other way to respond.

          Zhenya bit her lip, thinking even further. Finally, she appeared to compromise and ended the pointless banter. “So what am I to do with you?” she asked.

          “Well... I was told that you can help me. I need to learn how to speak Russian. I'm crippled out there! The whole camp is going to eat me alive if I can't understand them!”

          “No interpreter either... USA does strange things, as we say,” she replied snidely, her little shoes clicking as she moved behind the library's counter.

          I chose not to stick up for my country, _'tis of thee_ , at the moment. It'd been years since I'd been taught about the Soviet Union in school, and American culture had done its best to convince me that Soviets—to paint an even broader fence: Russians – were not to be liked or trusted. And I’d _had_ Russian friends in my time.

          However, it didn't seem fair to me to judge people off their political ideology, especially when I knew very little about them on a personal level. I also wasn't about to piss off one of the few lifelines that I had in this camp.

          I followed Zhenya to the counter, admiring the coziness of the somewhat smallish library. There didn't seem to be much going on in terms of variety; the bust of Lenin and various posters with rather brutish-looking visionaries immediately led me to believe that this was a “purpose-built” place of study. Regardless, it was at least serene, which was a change for the current day.

          “Books for English speakers on how to speak Russian are not exactly... how you say, common. Not around here,” she told me, shuffling a couple stacks of books aside.

          “Well, you seem to do pretty well yourself,” I answered. She had only the slightest of accents, and it leaned toward 'proper' English -- British English. “You’re the most understandable person I’ve met today. ”

          She smiled. I even detected a hint of a blush. “I've spent time abroad. I actually know five languages... so far.”

          “Wow. You must be a genius.”

          “Absolutely.” She answered without as much as a pause. “At any rate, it may take some time to locate the things you will need, so if you wouldn't mind...” Her gaze drifted toward the door, signifying that she wanted to do such locating without my presence.

          That was the last thing I wanted; who knew what awaited me outside? Another confrontation with an angry camp dweller was not on my to-do list, not by a long shot. “Could I wait here?” I asked. “It's really... hot out there. And I'd like to take a look around, if that’s okay with you.”

          “You can't read anything,” she said plainly, her voice taking a slight monotone as she stared at me through her bifocals. “You'd stare at space, doing nothing.”

          I bit my tongue; I wanted to tell her that “nothing” was _exactly_ what I preferred.

          She shrugged and sighed. “Do what you want, just don't make too much noise doing nothing. I'll see what I can find.”        

* * *

 

          So began the wait. I seated myself at a reading table in the corner, trying to collect my thoughts. Of course, the obvious questions of how I'd gotten here and why, along with what was actually happening to me came to mind. Trying to make sense of my situation was like trying to put a broken mirror back together.

 _Maybe I'm dead,_ I thought. Such a cheerful notion. _This is some strange form of Hell, and I'm stuck here for good._

          On the other hand, I'd heard crazy stories on the internet about people who got stone drunk, and somehow ended up either in another state or even another country; however, they were likely under the influence of many different things, and usually assisted by someone else.

          I had neither the friends or finances in recent times to fund a sudden alcohol-induced trip to Russia, only to find myself face-down in the street. Not saying I’m poor; I'm generally the type to work myself to the bone, but as far as friends... Other than my small band, I had nobody who could possibly be responsible for my arrival in this place. So that idea was out.

          There was also a noticeable sense of familiarity with some of the people here, as though they were expecting me. The blonde girl, although friendly in general, seemed to treat me like someone who had a right to be there.

          And then there was the camp leader, Olga Dmitrievna, with whom I'd exchanged very few words—somehow I sensed that she would know a whole lot of things that I didn't. She was the camp leader, right? She had to know something!

          I would've expected more guarded hostility from the inhabitants of this “camp” — not like that from that girl Alisa, and The Flame; was her name Ulyana? Or Ulyanka? Yet, there were a number of people willing to at least help me, despite me perfectly fitting the description of a bum.

 _Or maybe_ , I thought, _They're actually helpful in this country, unlike anywhere in the States_.

          It was quite possible. I sighed and rubbed my chin, doing my best to settle my mind. At that moment, I was suddenly aware of a crucial fact: my beard was gone. I hadn't even noticed, but my face was barren, as though I'd reverted back to my old ways of being clean-shaven. In modern times I couldn't cope with life without having at least some sort of facial detailing, and now...

          I stood up from the table and walked over to a window, peering outside. What I was really looking for was my reflection, which couldn't be seen. The windows were somewhat dusty in this library.

            _Phone._ Of course! In a split second I had the device in my hand, and I turned on the front-facing camera to look at myself.

          I was utterly shocked. Not only had my hard-earned beard disappeared, but there were other significant changes; my hair, the same reddish-brown as always, was fuller. In fact, it was too full. By my late 20's, my hairline had begun thinning –  I was nowhere near bald, but still on the way thanks to genetics. Now I had full-on coverage, “Asian hair” as I would call it. It was just on the brink of being a bit too long, much like I had in my days in high school.

          In addition, my complexion had changed to at least ten years before my age as well. No longer did I look so weathered from countless days under the summer sun, moving potting soil and bricks at one of many temporary jobs I'd held over the years. My skin was actually on the side of baby-smooth. _Am I going to get unbearable acne again?_ I wondered.

          I noticed that my smartphone's battery was down around ten percent; no service in the area meant that the device was continuing to search for a network, using up all the juice. I quickly switched it off; it could potentially become a lifeline.  
  
          Another thought occurred to me: Say I actually _was_ in some sort of time travel situation; would a cell phone even be useful here? Let alone a smartphone? The technology wouldn't be around for decades. Other than to take photos with and perhaps run an app or two, a smartphone was essentially a useless brick, especially with a dead battery.

          Placing the phone back in my pocket, I turned around and paced across the library, looking at the shelves of books. Of course, I couldn't understand a single title, but having some tangible knowledge of what was around me helped to settle my mind. I took one volume out, flipped a few pages, felt the paper under my fingers. The smell of books overwhelmed me, straight from my childhood days, when I would spend quite a lot of time in libraries. Way back before everything went digital.

          Come to think of it, there was very little recognizable technology here. No computers, no screens, not even a telephone on the counter. Did this camp not even have a means of communicating between buildings? Even that seemed like a rudimentary staple; if there are a lot of people to keep track of, a communications network is essential.

          I shook my head; obviously I was putting way too much thought into it all, and my head was still aching. I began to long for a cup of coffee, or anything to help kill what was left of my hangover.

          Finally I decided to sit back down, put my head down on the desk and closed my eyes.

 

 _Please,_ I thought as consciousness faded out…

_Someone, something out there..._

_God? I could use some help now..._

_I know I tend not to speak with you as often as I should... you know me._

_I don't know what I'm doing here or where to go. I don't know if I'll be able to survive this._

_If this is a dream, I want to wake up now._

_If not, I just want to go home..._

_Just let me be at home, please. Or if that's not possible..._

_Help me where I am now..._

 

          After some time, I was awakened by the slam of several books falling onto the reading table. I woke with a start, not sure of how long I'd been out. 

          Having gone away at some unknown point, Zhenya had returned, and she'd brought five volumes to me. Each of them had Cyrillic and English writing on the covers, ranging in various sizes and thickness.

          “Time for study,” she announced, taking the first book off the stack and handing it to me brusquely.

          At that moment I sensed that she had an odd sense of humor, and had chosen to mock me in a subtle way; with all of its big lettering and lots of pictures, this book had to be meant for kids. Little kids. It may as well have read “My First Russian Book” on the front cover, with some characters from the Muppets or something to that effect....

          I rolled my eyes a bit. “Really?”

          She crossed her arms. “Is there a problem? It is basic vocabulary and grammar, with Cyrillic alphabet; all of which I'm sure you know nothing about. Even a _baby_ could read it.” Her response was rather smug.

          I took a look at the other volumes. From what I could gather, there was enough material here to make me a competent speaker of Russian, depending on how seriously and quickly I absorbed the information. It stretched from the kids' book that I currently held in my hands, all the way to advanced phrasing. “How did you get all of these?” I asked, impressed. “You said yourself that these are rare here.”

          She shyly pushed her messy black hair back over her ears. Her cheeks were pale.  _She_ was pale. Likely spent little time out in the sun. “I suppose we're lucky. I have quite a few books in storage. Be careful with these; they're part of a collection...”

          I smiled. “I'll treat them like they're my own.”

          Her gaze narrowed. “That's what I mean; treat them like they're _mine._ ”

          “Okay, I get it.” I looked again at the stack, then looked at the window, which still displayed a bright, hot afternoon awaiting me. I had a feeling that I'd be living at this table for quite a bit. “Thank you very much, Zhenya. I don't know how I'll repay your kindness, but I will. Sometime.” I did my best to sound earnest, which I was, although at the moment I didn’t find her very likeable. She was rather rude, but was still willing to help me out, which was something.

          “You can thank me when you're done studying,” she replied, “Which, depending on you, may be when the term ends. Sooner if your life really depends on it… As you claim.”

          “End of the term?” I asked, setting the book down.

          “Yes. Two months from now. Today is the first day of the second week here at _Sovyonok_ , so hopefully you'll learn quickly enough to not be a complete stranger by then.”

          I wanted to keep asking questions; stupid ones, like what a “ _Sovyonok_ ” was. There was simply so much that I was trying to catch up with; things that were driving me crazy with every passing minute, but I knew that I had to be careful. Mentioning the “relationship” between the US and Russia—rather, Soviet Russia—was a bit of a taboo from what I'd seen. If Zhenya and others believed me to be an ambassador of some sort, it wouldn't be wise to ask about things that should have been basic knowledge.

          That being said, I sadly eyed the stack of books, then picked up the children's book, opened it and began to read, doing my best to absorb every word.

* * *

          Time passed; a few hours, from the looks of things. A loud, trumpeting melody echoed through the camp over loudspeakers outside, and it wasn't until Zhenya came back to me that I knew what it meant. “Time for lunch,” she informed me, carrying a small black purse with her.

          The thought of food made my mouth water almost uncontrollably; my stomach had been completely emptied hours prior, and I’d done nothing to help it since then. It took that precise moment to complain loudly, as much as I tried vainly to stifle the noise with my hands.

          Zhenya looked amused. “Come along, I will interpret for you. Just try not to get into any trouble, and don't leave me behind. You will be on your own if you do.”

          “Yes ma'am,” I replied, closing the children's book and standing up.

          We went outside, where the heat immediately cut through us both. The librarian didn't seem to mind it that much; she was apparently used to this. As for me, I lived in a very dry climate, so the humidity was a nightmare. Within seconds I was sweating through my t-shirt, and my Chucks were cooking on the bricks below our feet.

          I followed Zhenya down the path from the library, listening to her hum a simple tune the whole way. She seemed disconnected from the world at large, obviously happy with her own company. It seemed like a mean thought, but I wouldn't have expected different from a librarian; they often tend to be a solitary lot.

          From what I could see, there were a lot of pioneers here in this camp. Except for the occasional athletic attire, most were dressed in white shirts with short sleeves and arm patches. Blue skirts were standard on the girls, with the boys wearing blue short pants. They all wore the ever-present red neckerchief, brass belt buckle and white knee-high socks, and ranged in age from young kids to grown teens. I couldn't be sure of their exact numbers, but my guess was around fifty, possibly higher.

 _Sovyonok_ itself seemed built into the wooded terrain of the area, the distance between some buildings rather substantial. It took at least ten minutes to reach the square with the empty pedestal—where I'd been chased down earlier that day – and then another five to arrive at a rectangular building with lots of windows and a rusty old car -- a Lada -– parked outside of it.

          “The canteen.” Zhenya announced, acting as a tour guide while we lined up behind a mass of other pioneers who were waiting to get inside. “All meals are eaten here, three times a day, when the horns blow. Don't miss out, as the supply may run low at times.”

          I nodded, catching a quick look at my reflection in one of the windows. Yep, it was me alright, looking about 18 or 19 years old. Luckily at that time in life I was still somewhat in shape—recovering slowly from a bout with early-teen anorexia. I could tell that I'd lost a lot of the muscle I'd built over the years; yet another thing that would have to be remedied in short order. I made sure not to stare at myself for too long; a few pioneers were inside, wondering why I was leering at them.

          We finally got indoors and made our way to the counter, where I was handed a plate—an actual plate! The process resembled a lunch line back at school. Having lunch at school was a rarity for me; I had the traditional paper sack from home on a regular basis. I wouldn't have minded a smashed peanut butter & jelly sandwich, crushed crackers and a bruised apple, but instead...

          Pasta. Buns. What looked like a single cut of meat, about as large as a burger patty, and some sort of thick fruit juice. Whatever swill they tried to feed us back in school was nothing compared to this. It looked very appetizing, if not completely laden with carbohydrates.

          “Problem?” Zhenya asked, noticing the expression of surprise spreading across my face.

          “No, not at all,” I replied.

          “You look as though you've never seen real food before. Come on, let's find a place to sit before everything fills up.”

          I did my best to balance all the items on my plate while we made our way through the dining area. There were few spots open, but two just happened to be vacant next to the young man who'd broken his back carrying me to the infirmary that morning. He waved the both of us over with a friendly smile.

          Zhenya froze in her tracks at first, making me almost bump into her.

          “Problem?” I asked, mimicking her.

          “No... nothing. It's nothing,” she replied, sounding slightly flustered.

          We sat down at the table, myself directly across from our host, who extended his hand to me. “Welcome back to living!” he said in broken English. His smile was infectious; a guy of perpetual high-spirits, that was for sure.

          I shook his hand. “Thank you. Especially for earlier. I don't know what I would've done without you and... the girl.”

          “Slavya!” I wasn’t sure if that was her name, or if he’d said a word I hadn’t learned yet. “Yes, she's very helpful person. Great knowing. You feel better, yeah?”

          I answered his question by taking a huge bite from one of the buns I'd been given. “Much better now, thank you.” I said with heavily muffled words.

          He laughed heartily, along with his friend, who sat directly next to him and across from Zhenya: a very tall, broad-shouldered, lanky dude with horn-rimmed glasses, lenses even thicker than Zhenya's. One look at him screamed “nerd”, but he looked to be the actual _smart_ type of nerd. His blonde hair was cut orderly; long and parted on top and short on the sides; very old-fashioned and clean.

          “Meet Shurik." Our host introduced us. “Head at club, cybernetics, robotics, electronics. And me, I'm Electronik.”

          I didn't quite understand his meaning at first. I did my best to swallow the dry bread before speaking further. “I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that.”

          “His _name_ is Electronik.” Zhenya stated bluntly, poking at the cutlet on her plate. I noticed that she wasn't making eye contact with anyone at the table.

          “ _Da!_ Electronik Cheesekov, at service,” he said proudly. His voice was youthful and bright, somewhat on the breathy side. “And you?”

          “Brion Wohosky,” I replied. “Just call me Brion, we'll get along well.”

          I shook hands with Shurik, who seemed more than eager to do so himself, extending a rather large hand to me. “Brion,” said Shurik in a slightly stilted tone, “It is good meeting you. Welcome at _Sovyonok_. You are ambassador, yeah?”

          “Something like that.” I shot another look at Zhenya, who was keeping rather quiet. Did she tell everyone my supposed “title”? Or was everyone in the camp expecting me?

          _"Sovyonok_ is nice, but why not big place, like Artek, for visitor in country?" Shurik continued. I noticed that his English level was almost dead even with Electronik's; not particularly great, but they were understandable for the most part.

          I'd heard a bit about Artek during history class, way back as a high school sophomore. It was considered as one of the biggest and most prestigious pioneer camps in the Soviet Union. I shrugged. “I wasn't given a choice. However, _Sovyonok_ does seem very nice.”

          The two boys looked at each other and smiled, then looked back at me. “It's much nicer at cybernetics club! We do futures there. The robot is near complete!” Electronik said excitedly.

          _“Da,_ we should giving tour after meal, show you,” said Shurik. It sounded like these guys were trying to pitch something at me that I'd do well to avoid. Not that robots weren't fascinating to me, but there were other priorities at hand.

           Zhenya finally spoke up at length, rattling off in Russian. It wasn’t so foreign to me anymore, not after doing a bit of studying, but I still couldn’t make sense of much. _"Na eto nyet vremeni, my vozvrashchayemsia v biblioteku! Da i nechevo yemu tratit' vremia na bespoleznyh robotov!"_ [1]

          Both of them looked shocked by Zhenya's sudden outburst. Electronik was quick to counter, quite angrily, in fact. _“Bespoleznyh robotov? Ty s uma soshla? Nashi tvoreniya izmeniat mir!”_ [2]

          “Guys...” I said lowly, taking another bite of the dry bun.

          _“Tol'ko odnim glazkom! Krome tovo, on ne tvoja sobstvennost', mezhdu prochim!”_ [3] Electronik continued strongly.

           Zhenya looked straight at Electronik with fire behind her glasses. _“Tol'ko cherez moy trup! On pod moyey otvetstvennost'yu i idiot so mnoy! I tochka!”_ [4]

           Now it was Shurik's turn. _“Yemu, koneshno, ne povredit pouchitsa chemu-to i za predelami biblioteki. Uzhe skoro on smozhet razgadyvat' velikiye tayny nauki!”_ [5]

          I took a drink of the heavy fruit juice—kompot, the Russian Coca-Cola, I later learned—, doing my best to tune out the heated argument. My headache, a distant memory at this point, seemed to be returning.

          _“Chepukha! Ya ne pozvoliu vam tratit yevo vremia zazria v vashey duratskoy laboratorii. Krome sborki bespoleznyh mashin yest' kuda boleye vazhnyye veshchi!”_ Zhenya was practically snarling as she spoke.

          I began to eat quickly, wanting this exchange to be over with. I'd gladly escape to the library and bury myself under countless volumes on the virtues of Communism, if it meant that I could avoid whatever crap argument they were having.

          To make matters worse, I suddenly felt a strong, pointed tapping on my shoulder, as though someone were trying to dig a hole into my flesh. I abruptly turned to see Alisa -- the angry girl from earlier -- right behind me. She stood with a hand on her hip, wearing a smug smirk on her face.

          “...Yes?” I asked.

          Much to my surprise, she leaned down, almost touching faces with me. Her lips were barely an inch from my ear as she spoke with a very sultry tone. _"Prosto shtob ty znal: ya sobirayus' nadrat' tebe zad..."_

          I had nothing to say to her. No way to respond or even understand what she was getting at. I simply nodded; it was all I could think of.

          With that, she exhaled dreamily and walked away. For all intents and purposes, she’d made it look like we were getting involved with each other. It was odd, to say the least.  
  
          "What is _that?"_ asked Electronik, visibly disturbed. The argument between himself, Shurik and Zhenya had stopped abruptly to hear what this girl had told me.

          “Not sure,” I replied. In an extremely clumsy fashion, I attempted to repeat what she’d said to me.

          Electronik chuckled a bit, but it was obvious that he wasn't poking fun at me. “She is wanting to kick your ass, is what say her – I think. Not unusual. Just pay mind, and whatever do, never to call her “Dva-Cheh”. She hates it.”

          Zhenya nodded, finally taking a drink now that the argument had ceased. “Alisa Dvachevskaya is not one to trifle with.”

          I shrugged, picking up a fork to attack my pasta. “Well, glad that on my first day here, I'm making friends with everybody,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

          Electronik didn't understand what I meant at first, but after an explanation from Zhenya, he smiled and enthusiastically shook my hand—the one holding the fork, rattling all the food off—and said, “Worry not! We're real friends here. No tricks.”

          “Good to know.”

          We ate in relative silence for a few minutes, the debate on whether or not to show me the robotics club more or less forgotten. The food was so good, especially on an empty stomach, I was practically in a coma, and still eating.

          It wasn't until I was nearly done that I noticed Olga Dmitrievna and the blonde girl, Slavya, standing at a distance, watching me. Upon attracting my gaze, they came over, smiling.

          _“Naslazhdayeshsia?”_ asked Olga.

          Zhenya immediately jumped into action, translating back and forth for us. “Enjoying yourself?”

          I nodded. “Very much so, thank you. I apologize for... showing up late earlier, and for causing commotion.”

          Despite her ability to change mood at a moment's notice, Olga Dmitrievna seemed friendly enough. The tall, handsome woman of authority carried herself with a practiced air, almost as though she were ex-military. For all I knew, she _was_ military, and this was just a summer getaway for her. She shot a nasty glare at the Flame, who went gleefully running by. _"Ulyana, ne begay v pomeshchenii!"_ [7]

          _“Ladno!"_   She responded in a sing-song manner, slowing, but still moving quickly.

          Smiling again, her attention was back on me. "We are happy to finally have you here. I have reported your arrival with your government officials, and they send their regards. They have sent a package of personal items, which will be at our exchange in due time."

          A small tinge of panic hit me right in the spine. _Government officials?_ “Is there a way for me to speak with my government? You guys have a phone I can use?” I asked.

          Olga looked surprised. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

          I mentally ran down the myriad reasons to address, but from my previous conversation with Zhenya, it was probably best to search for answers in a roundabout fashion; better to not attract more attention to myself. “I just wanted to thank them for getting me here. And... inform them about my experiences thus far.”

          Olga nodded a bit vaguely. “No need, they already know much about our camp; otherwise, why send you here? We hope you'll enjoy your stay in _Sovyonok_ ; it will be a long summer, filled with enrichment and wonderful memories!”

          “Yes, very long summer,” mused Electronik.

          Zhenya tapped my shoulder. “Pioneer camps normally last three weeks. _Sovyonok_ goes throughout the entire summer. We end session at the end of August.”

          I nodded. This was some good information for once. At the very least, I knew how long this odyssey would be, before things got hectic; details such as how I'd get home, and back to my time! I still had no idea what year it really was.

          Slavya stepped forward, handing me a neatly folded stack of clothing: white dress shirt, long blue pants, belt and neckerchief.

          “Your uniform, which we took the liberty of selecting for you. We hope it fits!” said Olga. “I apologize for the pants. Our shipment of new shorts was mistaken.”

 _When in Rome_ , I thought. Or, rather, when in Russia. I didn't necessarily plan on spending my summer here in the same t-shirt, jeans and Chucks, but one glance at the shoulder patch on the left arm — a flaming red star on a yellow background — gave connotations of my fate being sealed.

          At least the badge on the front was a nicely-justified American flag, rather than the flaming Lenin badge that everyone else sported. I guessed that, for the time being, I really was some sort of ambassador. An outsider.

          Graciously, I took the uniform. There was a lot for me to manage; there was also a small green satchel tucked underneath, and it felt as though there were other items inside.

          “We will show your quarters now, if you have finished here.”

          I looked to Zhenya. She nodded, looking as though she'd finished long before we'd even started, having pushed herself away from the table and carrying her purse.

* * *

 

          We all walked back out into the summer heat, and I was given a small tour on the way to wherever it was that we were going. Much of _Sovyonok_ itself was dispersed throughout lush green landscape, trees and foliage being the common theme. It were as though the woods itself was trying to overtake the human settlements. It reminded me much of my mental pictures of idyllic summer camps back in the states.

          No, I'd never been to one, but I'd always envisioned lots of log cabin-type buildings, huge pines, a lake... it was plain to see that there was, in fact, a rather large lake nearby, but no pines, and all of the buildings were of semi-modern construction; no logs. This definitely wasn't Camp Anawanna.

          Instead, the trees here were very thick and leafy, some with branches that grew wildly, perfect for climbing. There seemed to be a bit of a calculated elegance to the way that the scenery was patterned, making _Sovyonok_ a very lush, green environment. One could call it beautiful here, if it wasn't for all the humidity. The sounds of birds chirping, of frogs, and various insects really tied the picture together.  
  


          My “quarters” turned out to be a tent nearing the southern shoreline of the camp, a bit of a distance from the canteen and a minute or so away from a very large lake. There was a cluster of cabins nearby, yet an olive drab triangle set in a small clearing in the thick green foliage was to be my home. I scratched my head upon arrival, trying not to express my distaste.

          “We hope you enjoy. This is one of the best locations we could think of.” Olga seemed rather happy with the arrangement.

          Slavya's expression seemed to tell another story; even with her pleasant nature, she couldn't hide the disbelief on her face. Zhenya continued to translate while they talked, speaking somewhat lowly to me. Secretive.

          “Olga Dmitrievna, are you sure that this is acceptable for a goodwill ambassador? The rest of us are in cabins!” Slavya said, tossing one of her two super-long braids over her shoulder.

          “Well, yes. Is there a problem?” asked Olga, not seeming to follow.

          “He'll be in the heat and the rain, with all of the insects! Is that really how we treat a foreign visitor?”

          “And what do you propose?” Olga added a girlish laugh.

          “Didn't someone stay with you in your cabin last year?”

          Olga thought about it for a good few moments. “I do seem to recall. It wasn't for very long. It was close to the end of the term, if I remember correctly. In any case, it wouldn't be proper for him to stay with me! I am the camp leader, after all.”

          Slavya’s face took on a look that I could only classify as defiant. “Surely there are more cabins available! I know there has to be at least one, or somebody without a roommate. I don't think this is right.”

          Olga seemed a bit put off by this, but didn’t let it get the best of her. She shrugged with her hands. “If you can find one for him, then we can arrange for it. Until then, he'll just have to make do.”

          I had a slight feeling that Olga had no idea that I could understand her, even with Zhenya conspicuously interpreting for me. Slavya turned back to me, a look of defeated resignation on her face. I shrugged, attempting to convey my appreciation of her efforts.

          Moving rather gracefully, she stuck her head through the tent flap, inspecting my living arrangements for herself.

          I cleared my throat. “It will do for now, surely. I've camped outdoors before, and this is a beautiful area.”

          “Excellent!” Olga seemed pleased. A little too pleased, to be honest. “Do settle in, and if there is anything you need, either Slavya or myself will be happy to help. I understand that you are busy with studies, so I will leave you the afternoon.”

          With that, the camp leader and Slavya wandered off, leaving me alone with Zhenya. We both stared at the tent, which even in the afternoon sun looked a bit sad. I waited for either Olga or Slavya to come running back, yelling “April Fool's!” or something to that effect.

          Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

          “Flabbergasted,” I stated plainly.

          “Accurate,” Zhenya replied, "In a strange way. Your English is odd. Go ahead and put your uniform on, then we can return to the library. As Olga Dmitrievna says, study.”

          I grudgingly nodded, a feeling of resignation rising to the surface, much like how Slavya had just expressed. “I'll deal with it all as it comes.”

          With that, I walked inside the tent, closing the flap only partway so I could actually see. It smelled rather musty inside; the age of the structure was obvious. It was tall enough for me to not have to duck my head, standing at least two meters tall.

          I envisioned tents from various war movies, which always looked much larger on the inside than the outside. The case was true here. Inside was a well-worn blue sleeping bag and a pillow, set plainly on the floor, which was covered with some sort of tarp. Despite Slavya's objections, this wasn't too bad of a setup, provided that there wasn't a major storm or leaks in the canopy.

          I undressed, leaving my t-shirt and boxers on so I could properly wear the uniform. I made a mental note that a shower or something like it had to come before long; sweat and vodka make a horrible cologne.

          Surprisingly, the uniform fit pretty well; either Olga or Slavya had good eyes. I had a bit of trouble with the silky red neckerchief; I'd never tied one in real life, and had no real clue as to how the pioneers here did theirs: always the same way, regulation-style.

          Once I made sure that my shirt was tucked in and my Chucks were back on—thankfully they were completely black, saving embarrassment— I checked the satchel that had been provided. Inside were basic living supplies; a small square mirror, a toothbrush, a comb, a safety razor, a bar of soap, a towel, and a tin full of fresh-smelling powder. The writing on top didn't reveal much to me at the moment, but I figured it would come in handy later.

          I also decided to take personal inventory; nothing wrong with figuring out all that I had to work with. I dug through my jeans and found my keys, which were completely useless, except for the Utili-Key -- a chintzy little multi-tool that could come handy in a pinch. I figured it'd be useful, so I pocketed it and put everything else away.

          In the opposite pocket I found my wallet; inside was eighteen dollars US, my driver's license, credit cards, social security, “guard card”, my expired forklift certification, and... a photo of my parents. All useful items, just not here. With half a smile, I stashed the wallet, along with my fitness tracker, which was even more useless than my cell phone. They became neighbors.

          The only thing left was my digital watch; a simple classic Casio. I figured that it wasn't too out of the ordinary, so I kept it on. It would be good to at least have something to track the passage of time.  
  


          Once I was satisfied, I returned to the relatively cooler air outside. Zhenya didn't look very happy, standing there with an impatient look on her face, forehead slightly wrinkled as sweat dotted her cheeks. There wasn’t much in the line of shade in this clearing, so the sun was relentless on her.

          “Sorry, did I take too long?” I asked.

          “No. Well, you could've at least invited me in,” she replied moodily.

          I cocked a brow upward. “You wanted to be in there... with me… while I was changing...?”

          She shook her head rather briskly. “No, that's not... oh, forget it. Let's just go back to the library now.”

          Zhenya's behavior confused me. At times she could be generally pleasant, but her constant mood swings were difficult to handle. On top of that, she seemed to be in a strange state ever since lunch.

          “How do I look, though?” I asked as we headed back toward the square.

          She stopped and turned around, sizing me up with a guarded pose – right arm over left, contemplatively – and shrugged. “You're the spitting image of the model pioneer. You should be on a coin.” Her English was very good, but her sarcasm was first-rate. It was enough to actually stop up my throat for a second. She came close and straightened my neckerchief a bit. “Here, this was wrong. Other than that, it looks good on you.” Afterward, she gave my little American flag a flick with her thumb and index finder. “Let's go.”

          We continued walking. “It looks good on me, huh?” I asked.

          “Yes, that's what I said,” she replied flatly.

          I chuckled. “Didn't think you were the flirting type.”

          She quickly lost her cool. “That was _not_ what I meant, and you know it!”

          “You sure? I saw you blushing.” I grinned.

          Her voice became harsh and punchy. A curly tuft of hair on top of her head bounced like an antenna. “You want to learn Russian by yourself???”

          I had a feeling that she was going to make an excellent study partner.

 

==============================

**Translations**

[1] "No time for that, we're going right back to the library! Besides, he's better off not wasting time on useless robots!"

[2] Useless robots? Are you mad? Our creations will change the world!

[3] Just a quick look! Besides, it's not like you own him!

[4] Over my dead body! He's my responsibility, and he's coming with me! That's final!

[5] It surely would not be harmful for him to asborb information further than our library. Before long, we can have him unraveling the mysteries of technology!

[6] Nonsense! I'm not going to let you waste his time in that silly lab of yours. There are more important things than tinkering with machines that accomplish nothing!

[7] Ulyana, no running indoors!


	3. Suddenly Falling

          We continued to snip at each other the rest of the way back to the library. Zhenya's temper made it impossible not to engage her; in a way, I was finding her almost cute when angry. Standing a couple of inches shorter than me – I was no giant in terms of height – she was like a little tea kettle on high boil; threatening, but only so much.

          The library was considerably cooler when we got back; there were plenty of shade trees around the building, making the environment comfortable and relaxing. 

          While it felt great to be back indoors, the pile of books on the reading table gave me a sinking feeling.

          “Well, back to it, I suppose,” said Zhenya, finally calming down. “Let me know if you need help.” She situated herself behind the counter, obviously planning to stay there for a while. Like a ruler at her throne, there would be no forcing her away from it.

          This afternoon, although peaceful, was shaping up to be no more uplifting than the morning. Sure, I was meeting the people in this camp on friendlier terms, but I still felt like a fish out of water. I secretly prayed that somehow I'd pick up the language at a blinding speed; Zhenya couldn't always be there for me, nor would I want her to be.

          So, on went the repeated study of the Cyrillic alphabet. I felt like I was back in kindergarten, practicing the writing of the characters on sheets of paper, making test sentences. I spelled my name.   

          “ **Брион Уохоскй** “

          Oddly enough, I preferred the way my name looked in Russian than in English.

          Then came basic vocabulary, followed by sentence structure. I continued to write, even going as far as to write the classic adage, “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”

          I was at it for a while, making what I thought was progress, until after a time laughter broke out suddenly over my shoulder. I turned to see Zhenya hovering behind me, watching every move I was making. “Once again, you're doing it all wrong,” she giggled. “For one, Russian language has no ‘the’, so whatever you wrote there is gibberish. I also don’t think a brown lazy quick would fox-jump over a dog easily.”

          I sighed, leaning down to thump my head onto the table. “This is impossible,” I groaned.

          She stepped next to me. “First, stop slouching! And look, here's how you do it.” She picked up one of the more advanced books and opened it straight to the page she wanted, as though she'd memorized the entire thing, then began a lengthy lecture about masculine and feminine variations of words, even more sentence structure, and pronunciation— what sounds were present in English, but not in Russian.

          I spaced out a few times as she talked without end; Zhenya was like the Energizer Bunny, unfaltering in her lecturing. I did manage to scribble a pile of notes in English, with the hope that I could study them later; that was, of course, if she’d ever stop.

          Seasons passed -- more appropriately, hours. The sunlight outside of the windows grew more and more faint as the lesson wore on. I would look longingly out every once in a while, only to suffer Zhenya's quick and attentive reproach.

          "Pay attention!" She'd snap. "This next part is even  _more_ important. Now, repeat after me..."

* * *

          After what seemed like an eternity, a familiar melody finally blared in the distance, signifying my salvation from the endless lecturing.

          “...And _that_ is the dinner call.” She finally took a breath, standing up from the wooden chair that she'd brought over.

          I glanced at my watch; she'd been going on for four _hours!_ Holy crap, this little woman was the very definition of “chatterbox”!

          “And what do we say in response to that?” she asked, sounding just like a teacher who was waiting for a rhetorically-easy answer.

          “ _Poshli!”_ I replied after a few seconds of pause.

          Her eyes lit up. “Very good! You _are_ learning something. For a moment I thought I'd lost you.”

_Oh, if you only knew..._

          We made our way to the canteen, Zhenya continuing to jabber all the way there. I came to the realization that she completely fit the classic description of a librarian; a bit of a loner, and probably wasn’t much of a public speaker, with the exception of academic topics. Once that happened, there was no stopping her. It was like the opening of floodgates.

          She kept on about Russian vocabulary and syntax, our lesson apparently far from over even though we'd left the library. I even tried to distract myself by listening to the birds, getting a look at some unfamiliar pioneer girls, but her words were like a book-on-tape through headphones that were permanently grafted to one's head; there was simply no escape.

          It wasn't until we sat down at a table with our food that her speaking suddenly ceased. My ears were gifted with the sweet, melodious sound of others talking indistinctly amongst the clatter of silverware. I carefully made a sideways glance at her to see what had stopped her verbal torrent.

          Zhenya poked the pile of mashed potatoes on her plate with her fork, staring blankly at the off-white mass through her spectacles. “I don't like lumps in my mashed potatoes,” she mused. She sounded like she was going to launch into free-verse poetry, but thankfully said nothing further. I wasn't about to start playing bongo drums for her.

          Directly across from us sat two pioneer girls whom I hadn't met: one with incredibly long cyan hair erupting boisterously in two pigtails on either side of her head; the other with messy purple hair that was kept in the same fashion, but much shorter.

          The girl in cyan stared at me intently, as though I were a brand new toy to a five-year old. Then she began to speak. I thought nobody could outdo Zhenya for sheer amount of words within a span of time, but then...  
  
          _“ _O, privet! Ty, dolzhno byt, noven'kiy? Menia zovut Miku, a tebia? A ty i yest tot samyy posol, o kotorom ya slyshala? Gotova pokliastsa, shto videla tebia probegayushchim mimo i ran'she, no ty tak letal, shto ya tak i ne smogla s toboy pozdorovatsa! Slushay, a chevo v fil'mah liudi vsegda odnovremenno i begut, i razgovarivayut? Eto zhe ochen' slozhno na samom dele! Ya kak-to pytalas' razgovarivat' s drugom, poka my begali v shkole, tak ya chut' ne ubilas'! Slushay, a u tebia kozha dovol'no tiomnaya. A razve bol'shinstvo amerikantsev ne blednokozhyye? Ne obizhaysia, pozhaluysta, mne prosto ochen' interesno!_ ”_  [1]

          I looked frantically to Zhenya, but she’d put aside her dislike of lumpy mashed potatoes and was chewing away, not bothering to translate for me. Apparently I was on my own, right when I needed her!

 _"Pozhaluysta... odin vopros... v to vremya..._ " I said, stumbling over my words. This was a very new game to me, and I was sure that I was getting every word wrong.

          I seemed to get something right somewhere, because the girl did stop speaking—momentarily. She put a hand to her cheek in a slightly-overdone expression of adoration. “ _ _Ah, kak milo! U tebia takoy aktsent! A moi druz'ya vsegda govoriat, shto u menia mileyshiy aktsent, kogda ya govoriu na yaponskom. No delo v tom, shto ya yevo na samom dele ne zamechayu. Ya prosto slushala vsiu zhizn', kak govoriat moi roditeli drug s drugom, i nikogda ya u nih ne zamechala aktsenta! Moya mama yaponka, a vot papa - russkiy. Ya stol'ko vremeni yezhzhu tuda i obratno, shto ya inogda dazhe ne znayu, kakuyu stranu nazyvat' svoim domom! Ey, a vot u tebia zdes' seychas tozhe takiye chuvstva?_ ”_ [2]

          I felt like crap, but I ended up ignoring her, simply smiling and concentrating on the meal, as well as throwing a few glances at the girl with purple hair, who shyly looked back at me as though I were a predator. In a way, I suppose I resembled one; my eyes were constantly shifting from place to place.

          And yet, the cyan girl was still talking. Even as a few questions came my way, all I could do was smile and nod. Eventually she seemed to realize that I wasn’t paying attention, so she began to dictate to the purple girl, whose cheeks flashed a bright red before she addressed me with a gentle, almost frail voice.

          She spoke in English; not good English, but enough for me to understand. “My roommate... her name is Miku. She wanted you at telling how you enjoy your stay.”

          I could tell that I was getting the Crib Notes version of Miku's narrative, but I appreciated the gesture. I answered back clumsily in Russian, trying my best. When I couldn’t come up with the right words, I’d flip-flop to English, effectively speaking a form of Runglish. “ _Spasibo_.  Um...  _A kak vas… zavut?_ ”

          She seemed extremely timid, like my words were going to materialize in midair and punch her in her delicate face. “I... _menia zavut_ Lena.”

          “Leh-nuh.” I pronounced her name carefully. “That's a pretty name. Nice to meet you, Lena. Ah… _Menia zavut_ Brion.”

          “I know,” she answered faintly. “We were told…”

          Miku stopped speaking briefly, eyeing me in almost the same manner as I’d done to Lena. At least she didn’t seem offended by my lack of direct, accurate conversation toward her. From her appearance—porcelain skin and certain Asian features— she had to be from Japan. She reminded me very much of an anime doll.

          “Miku?” I addressed her.

          There was far too much energy in this girl; she clapped her hands like an overly-enthusiastic kid. “ _Da! Menia zavut_ Miku, Bravo!” She laughed happily, apparently the type to be easily impressed.

          “Are goodwill ambassador, _Da_?” asked Lena, almost seeming to choke a bit on her words.

          I nodded, sipping tea. Green tea – not my usual choice, but it was actually quite good. “From America, with... disdain?”

           Lena looked a little taken aback; obviously my joke flew right over her head. Actually, the joke sucked; a wrinkled brow from Zhenya and a blank stare from Miku let me in on this fact. I wasn’t even sure if Miku understood what I’d just said. “Er… I mean… well… not disdain. Uh… _uvazheniye.”_  

          Zhenya nudged me with her elbow. “ _Respect?_ Nice save, _bolvan_.[3] Try harder next time.”

          Lena seemed to recover quickly, regardless of my epic fail. “Your accent… are… funny.”

          “I'm sure. This was my first time speaking Russian. How did I do?”

          Lena looked to Miku, then to Zhenya, an unsure look on her face. She finally shrugged. “You tried.”

          No better answer than that, I suppose. I raised my cup in approval and decided to drop the conversation for now, tail between my legs in shame.

          Tonight's fare was the aforementioned mashed potatoes, with a bowl of what I quickly identified as borscht -- pronounced "borsch!" -- with sour cream, and more buns. They seemed to be everywhere; rye buns, which were plenty tasty in themselves. Despite all I'd gone through that day, the food was outstanding.

          “So, what happens here at night?” I asked, posing the question to Zhenya, expecting her to jump in and translate for me, or at least tell me herself.

          She did so, but there was an evil glint in her eyes as she looked straight at Miku and spoke with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

          Miku didn't miss a beat, hitting me with an onslaught.  _" _Mnogo vsevo! Inogda my v igry igrayem, ili istorii rasskazyvayem dopozna, ili u kostra poyom. Posledniy raz ya balalayku prinesla, i my vse peli azh do samovo voskhoda sontsa! O, a ty igrayesh na balalayke? Ili, mozhet, na gitare? Mne lichno vsegda bol'she gitara nravilas'. A znayesh, ya tut ischu chlenov_..."_[4]

          I caught a few words, particularly “guitar”, but I simply couldn't keep up with her yet. Lena provided her own answer. “Lots of things. It can be peaceful.”

          Our conversation was broken by the sudden appearance of Olga Dmitrievna pursuing Ulyana through the canteen; an excellent foil to Lena's statement. Ulyana seemed to be carrying a transparent plastic bag about the size of an infant, and was moving easily around other pioneers due to her small size. She was ducking and weaving, all with a toothy grin on her face.

          Olga, on the other hand, pursued much more like a rhinoceros, nearly flinging pioneers aside as she wove a path of destruction after her smaller target. They seemed to be making a convoluted route, with no sure way of predicting the next move. After a good few seconds of playing cat-and-mouse, it looked like Ulyana had managed to trap herself in a corner, with Olga aggressively scuttling from side to side, blocking her escape either around or under a table.

          I looked on with interest; I knew nothing about the young girl, but for some reason I was hoping that she’d actually make it out of there. At any rate, this was pure entertainment. Olga moved as though she’d been training specifically for this type of activity, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet like a prize fighter. 

          While I was busy being impressed with the camp leader’s athletic abilities, I surely wasn't prepared for Ulyana’s next move: with a panicked expression, she glanced around the camp leader’s shoulder, grinned and passed the bag to me like a football—American football, that is—yelling, _“Lovi!”_

          Of course, my first reaction was to catch the flying plastic bag, which I did.

          Olga wheeled around, saw what I was holding and appeared to either grow in height or levitate behind Miku and Lena, a killer gaze blazing right at me.

          “...R… Run!” Zhenya stammered, elbowing me in the ribs.

          At least, that's what I thought she said, and why wouldn't I take her advice? I scrambled backward, falling out of my chair and onto the floor. I quickly glanced toward the exit: I had a clear shot! I could make it! I found my feet, took a step and…

          Was tackled violently by the camp leader, who landed on top of me like a pro wrestler. I was surprised as to just how much she actually weighed. She wasn't fat, not by any stretch of the imagination; she had a lot of muscle hidden under that uniform!

          In the blink of an eye, I was slamming face-down onto the tile floor with considerable force, the plastic bag flying out of my reach, skidding away from me and right at Ulyana's feet. She’d somehow managed to rocket all the way to the other side of the canteen in mere seconds, and scooped up her prize with a victorious grin.

          “ _Spasibo!”_ she laughed triumphantly before bolting to the exit, disappearing into the cooling night air.

          Had Olga landed on me in any other way, people would have gotten the wrong idea about us: she was practically straddling me from behind, her powerful thighs wrapped around me and her fingernails digging into my shoulders. As she pinned me face-down to the floor with all of her weight, I could feel her hot breath in my ear; she was audibly panting. Her long auburn hair was draped over my head, and despite her muscle, there was quite a bit of softness to be felt on my back, where… _oh my, oh my..._

          Finally the weight came off of me, and I had to evaluate my entire body before trying to stand; such an impact could've broken bones! It appeared that I was none the worse for wear, but something told me I'd be feeling the impact later.

          Olga was straightening her hair, coming out of her primal attack state when I finally looked at her. Her face registered a look of pure shock. “ _Brion_?” she asked, immediately launching into a dialogue that I couldn't quite grasp. Zhenya came to my rescue, visibly shaken up by the scene but still functional. “I hardly recognized you in your uniform!”

          Paint it any way she tried, Olga Dmitrievna's target ID skills left much to be desired. I brushed myself off, trying to come up with words to relay when I noticed several drops of blood splatter on the floor. It turned out that not only had she taken me down, but my face had struck the floor, and I was now bleeding from the nose. I heard Lena issue a high-pitched squeak at this recent development.

          “Oh, thid,” I said, grabbing for a napkin. An unknown pioneer gladly gave one up, and I tilted my head back.

          Olga sounded like she was pleading; I couldn't tell for sure, since I couldn't really look at her. Electronik and Shurik made their way over, and after exchanging a few more words with our camp leader, they led me out of the canteen and over to the infirmary.

          “You should have seen it, man!” Electronik exclaimed, guiding me by the arm. I couldn't see where I was going at all, so it was good to have both he and Shurik helping me along.

          “Thaw id? I god hid, I thaw plenny!” I responded, wanting to laugh at my ridiculous speech impediment.

          “It was remarkable,” said Shurik. “Olga Dmitrievna jumping _over_ table. It was graceful and terrifying sight.”

          My mind's eye tried to recreate the scene. The idea of a good-looking lady with a secret muscular build flying over everyone's heads, pouncing like a cougar, was both entertaining and downright absurd. Then again, I did have physical evidence of this fact.

          The infirmary wasn't a far distance from the canteen, and before I knew it we were climbing the steps and struggling through the door. I heard the clattering of heels, as though we'd startled Nurse Violetta, who was sitting at her desk. “What happened to you _now?”_ I heard her ask, a note of irritation in her voice.

          The guys were petrified to answer her question; who would recount the surreal tale that nearly everyone in the camp had witnessed not five minutes ago? Who could make it sound less like a pile of voodoo-magical trickery?

          Shurik cleared his throat and made a valiant effort to do so. Although stammering, he went on in what I could only assume was vital detail.

          At the end of his speech, Violetta didn’t sound convinced at all. She dismissed them both rather sharply, demanding that they leave. Without so much as an argument, the two boys made tracks as fast as they could, bidding me abbreviated farewells as they left me alone with the nurse.

          Once the door was closed, Violetta’s mood immediately changed; she was much more relaxed, leading me with a gentle touch to the single bed where I’d sat for a while earlier that very day. Once I was seated, she pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and snapped them onto her slender hands.

          “What has happened to you now?” she asked, holding my face and examining my nostrils. Her voice sounded sympathetic and coddling, as though I were a beloved pet instead of a patient.

          “An assident,” I blurted, still sounding ridiculous.

          I watched her as she delicately manipulated my nose, giving me just a trace amount of pain as she did so. Her gaze seemed to drift to my eyes an awful lot. “And what is this accident?” she continued her query.

          “Oh-ga Dmit…” I stumbled on my words. There was no way I was going to attempt saying that difficult last name with my nasal passages and throat coated with blood.

          Violetta sighed, arching her eyebrows slightly. “Head down, Pioneer. Now… surely you wouldn’t lie to me as you young boys often do, would you?”

          I shook my head slightly, tilting it downward as she instructed. “Gno lies.”

          She reached down, grabbed my hand and had me pinch my fingers at the bridge of my nose. “Keep pressure here.”

          I did so. She turned away, grabbed a swab from a nearby jar and carefully began to prod at my nostrils. “Those two young men are worth being friendly to, but full of mischief. You wouldn’t plan on becoming like them, would you, _Bello_?”

          Did she really just call me “handsome?” I shrugged. “Godda do wha-godda do. Why meg enemies when you’n make friens?”

          She laughed; a low, self-conscious chuckle. “An interesting philosophy… Brion, is it?”

          “Ah-hah. Why? Summin’ wrong?”

          She dropped the bloody swab into the trash, grabbed a fresh one and continued. “Nothing wrong at all,” she said with a smirk. “It is a very mature mindset. You speak as though you are a much older man.”

          It had been a very recent revelation that I was a teenager again; or at least, I appeared to be. I could only assume that whatever Violetta had in her records was completely different than what was on my driver’s license; I’d taken a quick look earlier, and all of the information was as normal as ever. This was information I couldn’t exactly pass along to her, so I simply remained silent.

          Violetta went silent as well, standing a little too closely to me while she skillfully worked. I could vaguely smell her scent, even with my nose problem; strong perfume, mixed with something else. It was rather intoxicating, in a good way.

          Now that my hangover was gone, I could fully appreciate what a finely-aged beauty she was. With toned, olive skin and generous, alluring curves, she reminded me of the finest Italian beauties, the kind featured in old films and magazines. While there were a few age lines around her eyes, it was clear that youth wasn’t leaving her anytime soon. 

          She noticed my lingering gaze, noticed that I couldn't help but look at things I shouldn't while she leant forward, and smiled. “Boys will indeed be boys.”

          “Sorry,” I replied.

          She shushed me. “No apologies. I wouldn’t believe you in any case.” Her smile became even warmer as her face came even closer. “And besides… the less blood in your head, the better,” she added with a mischievous wink.

 _Dear God, is this even legal?_ My mind began to race.

          “Careful, _Bello_. Your pulse will… elevate.”

          From then on, I kept my eyes pointed at the ceiling, continuing to hold my nose. With the help of a cold compress, my nose eventually stopped bleeding.

          Satisfied with her work, Violetta delivered good news. “Your nose isn’t broken, which is a very good thing,” she told me. “You’d need quite a few bandages in that case, perhaps an unattractive facial cast.”

          I laughed, which felt like a bad idea; my sore nasal tissues sent a painful jolt to my brain.

          The nurse nodded. “You’ll want to take it easy on yourself until at least tomorrow. Your nose will be very fragile until then. If you continue to bleed, just apply pressure as we did here. Of course, I’d encourage you to see me, in any case.”

          From the way she was looking at me now—predatorily—I had a feeling that she didn’t quite mean for a medical examination. I was beginning to see why the boys had run out of here so quickly. Then again, those very reasons to run away were the same for running _to_ the infirmary, but I digress.

          “Thank you, Violetta,” I said, sniffling succinctly. “I’m still in your debt.”

          The nurse seated herself on a nearby stool and rolled close to the bed. “It is my job to ensure that you young people are healthy and happy,” she said proudly, a self-satisfied expression on her face. “Think not of there being a debt.”

          I nodded, setting my feet on the floor to stand, but something in her eyes made me delay my departure. “To be honest,” she continued, “I was fairly certain that you and the boys had simply done as you young men do, and had a friendly fight.”

          A friendly fight? I’d been bullied a bit growing up, but had never had anything close to what could possibly be seen as a friendly fight. The few that I'd gotten into were surely not meaningless. “Well,” I replied, “I’m trying to lower my profile. Besides, I think I’d wipe the floor with them.”

          She looked very amused, as though I'd told a joke. “Is that so? Very arrogant of you, Brion. And aren’t you supposed to be an ambassador of good will?”

          I shrugged. “You’re right.”

          Violetta didn’t shift at all. “I am not scolding you; arrogance is an admirable trait in a young man. However, so is discretion. You would think twice before doing something regrettable, I am sure.”

          “Of course.”

          She looked pleased. “ _Eccezionale._ I believe your country sent a good representative; an honest one.”

          I wasn’t particularly sure where this conversation was leading, if it was leading anywhere. Things seemed to be getting more and more candid with Violetta as time went on; not that I minded, but there was something about this woman that was both alluring and threatening all at once, making things very tense.

          “Assuming that you boys are truthful; you seldom are… what did Olga Dmitrievna see about you that made her throw herself at you?” she asked, a giggle emanating at the end of her query.

          “A plastic bag from the kitchen,” I replied.

          She laughed then; a hardy, full-bodied laugh. “Is that so? Well… that does sound truthful, coming from you; I assume a certain young girl was stealing sweets, yet again. She's succeeded before, but not without witnesses.”

          “A repeat offender?” I asked. “You’d think they’d hide the candy after the first try.” I stopped, realizing what I was actually saying: I’d been clobbered over a bag of candy!

          Violetta nodded. “It is a transgression, but there are far more serious matters. What intrigues me is Olga Dmitrievna; she is a good woman. Orderly. At times, ineffectual. At others… very sweet, deep down.” She stopped to stretch her arms above her head, briefly puffing out her chest. “Aggression is not in her character, but then we look at you, and…”

          I thought about it for a few moments. I’d yet to really speak to the camp leader; sure, she’d spoken to me in the afternoon, but there’d hardly been time to know who she was as a person. At this point, it didn’t really matter; I knew what I saw, and as far as I was concerned, it was in my best interest to stay away from her. “Should I complain?” I asked.

          “On the contrary, Pioneer. I am saying to not hold it against her. I am certain that she means you no harm, but this was… the heat of a moment? Is that how you say?”

          The dull pain in my nose spoke otherwise, but I could only take the advice. “We’ll see.”

          She looked regretfully at her watch. “Unfortunately, it is time for me to head home, _Bello._ Do take care of yourself in your time here; it is a very long summer, and there are many ways for young men like you to get into trouble around here.”

          “You don’t live here in camp?” I asked, standing up with her.

          She giggled. “The only staff member to live here alongside the pioneers is Olga Dmitrievna, my dear. You surely weren’t hoping to have access to me at all hours of the day and night, were you?”

          I nearly bit my tongue. “N… no, that’s not it,” I stammered. “I was just asking.”

          She sighed wistfully. “I wish you boys weren't such liars.” Her eyes locked onto mine, burning through to my soul. “But then, that would make my job here even less interesting. You run along now, Brion, and be sure to visit me if something hurts.”

 _…Something hurts._ The very way she said that gave me chills.

          I headed for the door, but before leaving, I cleared my throat. “ _Spasibo,_ Violetta _.”_

          She turned to me from her desk, a self-indulgent smile lifting her cheeks. “Very good, Brion. Perhaps next time we'll converse fully in Russian?”

          Violetta was already assuming there would be a next time. Well, with two months still to go, it was inevitable that something else may go awry...

          “I'll be ready,” I answered.

          Once I left the porch to the infirmary, it felt like reality was slamming back into place. It was now dark out. I had no idea what the official time for lights-out was, and I was still somewhat unfamiliar with the camp.

          To top it all off, my stomach was rumbling. I'd barely eaten half of my dinner before getting body-slammed. At this point, I guessed that I would have to tough it out until morning.

          I made my way back to the square, trying to get my bearings. It was easy to see everything during the day, but at night the woods seemed to shroud everything in stark darkness with a very vague mist. It was quite a beautiful, yet surreal occurrence.

          As I stared at this mist, enjoying a moment of solitude, footsteps approached me calmly. I turned in the direction of the sound, setting my eyes upon Lena, who stopped several feet away from me.

          “Oh!” she expressed quietly, nervously clutching a bulging burlap sack in one arm. She stammered as she spoke in English. “H… hi. Hello.”

          I smiled at her, doing my best to be pleasant, despite the pain in my nose. “Hi, Lena. What brings you here?” I asked.

          “I… was told at bringing this. I am leaving to your tent,” she replied, presenting the sack to me.

          Carefully taking it from her, I opened it up. Inside there were the books that Zhenya had lent me for study, along with my notes, as well as several bread rolls from dinner and a small kerosene lantern, constructed more from metal than glass.

          “Wow. Is this all from you?” I asked.

          Lena shook her head. “Olga Dmitrievna, Zhenya, and Slavya. With… compliment.”

          I smiled. “Well, tell them I appreciate it, if you see them.”

          Lena nodded, staring at me somewhat blankly with her sad green eyes. She had a very cautious, worried expression on her face, as though a million questions were going through her mind.

          We stood there in awkward silence for a few moments before I decided to break the ice. I pointed to a book that she was carrying in her left hand. “What have you got there?”

            At first, it looked as though Lena was going to hide the book from my view, but she tentatively presented it to me. I took a look at the title, which was embossed onto the front cover in gold lettering: _Колодец и маятник_ \- Эдгар Аллан По. I strained a bit, drawing on my new-found knowledge. _Kolodets i mayatnik_ – Edgar Allan Poe.

          “Edgar Allan Poe?” I asked. “Interesting. I like his work. I don’t know the title, though.” 

          Lena cradled the book in her arms, looking very sheepish. “It is… _Pit and Pendulum.”_

          Ah, now it came to me. I’d read that one back in my high school days. Watched the movie, too. “That’s a very good one. What do you think of it?”

          She shrugged. “I don’t like it. It’s… very scary.”

          “Poe does get pretty dark, that’s for sure. I’m more a fan of his poetry, myself; have you ever read _The Raven?_ ”

          Lena nodded, a very faint smile lighting her face. “I like _Raven_ ,” she admitted. “I used it for coming at this one, but... I’m believing not in writing equals.”

          I appreciated Lena’s attempts; she was doing pretty well, in some ways better, at listening and speaking in English than Electronik or Shurik. Her shyness, however, made talking to her slightly uncomfortable. I felt like any one of my words might somehow fracture this girl like a Fabergé egg. “You sound pretty smart. Do you study a lot?” I asked.

          Lena’s expression became very guarded at that point, her stare seeming almost cold in the darkness, lit faintly by the moon. Her body seemed to tremble ever so slightly. “I… need going,” she said, her voice in a near whisper.

          I felt concerned. Did I just offend her? “Oh, okay. Well, s _pasibo_. See you…”

          She turned and quickly walked away before I could finish my sentence, moving without as much as a single bounce in her step. _Wow, what was with that?”_ I thought. Things seemed to be going well, for the most part. Was she really that shy to run straight away from a conversation?

          I figured that I had plenty of time to sort it all out later. I took another look into the bag of goodies I’d been given, deciding that the best idea was to settle in at my tent and do more studying. At least in there, I could finally be left alone and mull over what was happening to me, try to come to terms with it all.

          Heaving the sack over my shoulder, I made my way to the south without any difficulties, and was greeted by the slightly unwelcoming structure that was to be my home for the next couple of months. The entrance to it hung halfway open, flapping in the gentle breeze.

          Not twelve hours before – in theory – I’d gone from my old suburban house in California to this: A Soviet pioneer camp, with all kinds of interesting individuals whom I could scarcely understand.

          The worst part was the uncertainty of it all. As I sat down inside with the lantern glowing dimly, I wondered just what my purpose was here. Zhenya said I’d be here in this camp for at least two months, but… what about after that? Would I somehow return to what I once knew? Would I be forced to live here in a foreign time, a foreign country?

          On top of that, what brought me here? The more I thought about it, the less it made sense; how could I fall into a drunken sleep and suddenly be here? What _was_ here, anyway?

          I shook my head. There was no way that I would find the answers to my questions by sitting and thinking, as much as I hoped I could. I’d been that way my entire life, always contemplating, always inside my own head. Given enough time, I could unravel all of the universe’s mysteries, but not this. I was being completely thrown for a loop.

          So, with a rye bread roll in my hand and an open book, I began to comb over the intricacies of the Russian language once more. If there was anything in my life that could be solved right now, it was the mysterious world hidden in Cyrillic.

          The rest would simply have to wait its turn.

==============================

**Translations**

[1] Oh, hi! You must be new here! My name is Miku, what's yours? Are you the ambassador I've been hearing about? I could have sworn that I saw you running around earlier, but you were moving so fast, I couldn't greet you! Say, why is it that people in movies always talk and run at the same time? It's super hard to do it in real life! Once I tried to talk to my friend while we were running in school, and I nearly passed out! Say, your skin looks a little dark. Aren't most Americans anglo? Don't be offended, I'm just curious!

[2] Oh, how cute! Your accent is so thick! My friends always say that I have the cutest accent when I speak in Japanese. The thing is, I don't really hear it. I've just listened to my parents speaking to each other all my life, and I never heard an accent from them! My mother is Japanese, while my father is Russian. I spend so much time traveling back and forth, sometimes I don't know which country to call my home! Hey! Do you feel the same way now that you're here?

[3] Jackass.

[4] Oh, so many things! Sometimes we play games, or tell stories late into the night, or sing around the campfire. Last time I brought a balalaika, and we all sang until the sun was coming up! Say, do you play the balalaika? Or perhaps the guitar? I've always loved the guitar more, personally. You know, I'm actually looking for members...


	4. Soviet Sunrise

          I studied for a while, losing track of time. Eventually I unrolled the sleeping bag and settled down, doing my best to continue scribbling notes; test sentences and alphabet, mainly. Repetition is the best teacher, as always. I fell asleep at some point, mouthing words to myself. “ _Baklazhan. Tykva . Kashtan. Dynya. Grib...”_

          Slumber didn't come easily, it turned out. The tent didn't offer much when it came to airflow, even with the flap partly open. Not to mention the dreams I would have when slumber would actually overtake me.

_I kept seeing my old bedroom, my old home; the taste of vodka still in my mouth..._

_I could see Olga Dmitrievna's hostile glare as she came to pounce on me..._

_Alisa, hands balled into fists, muttering under her breath..._

_Lena, standing in front of me, trembling with what could only be anxiety..._

          Every time I'd fall asleep, I'd get a different depressing image. I tried to shift things to being more positive, but my brain just wasn't having it.

          Finally, having enough, I stood up, my body and uniform drenched in sweat. I lazily tossed my uniform shirt and neckerchief onto the floor and wandered out into the cooler night air.

          The moon was hanging very low, bidding farewell to the night before disappearing beyond the horizon. There was still enough light to see by, and I had my shoes on, so I decided to take a stroll in the darkness.

          I wandered north, up the path toward the square. In the distance I could see more cabins, some with dim light visible through the windows. The empty pedestal could plainly be seen, lonely in the vast expanse of concrete. The trees provided evidence of the breeze, gently flitting their leaves.

          A look at a sign on the northern edge of the square turned out to be a map. I could just barely understand the meanings of the words, recognize the layout of the parts of camp I'd already seen. I figured that a small adventure would give me time to try and make sense of all that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours.

          Further north I went, passing two large rows of cabins and a small, welcoming hut that looked more like a log cabin from the 1800s; even further as the path became an incline, and then dead-ended once the terrain gave way to woods.

          Along the path I found a decently-sized tree branch that had been long fallen, so I snapped off a few stray twigs and used it as a walking stick. The night air and sound of crickets was doing me a lot of good, especially for thinking.

          I went over the hard questions once more: Just what was this place? If I had traveled in time or traveled in general, what did it mean for me? Could I really leave if I chose? Would anyone care?

          As I’d already seen, they’d been expecting me here, but I wasn't being treated like a complete stranger. Still, I'd fallen asleep drunk as a skunk, and somehow found myself in this place as a “goodwill ambassador”. Olga Dmitrievna had even mentioned speaking to a government official about me.

          From the pain in my muscles and my stopped-up nose, I knew I wasn't dreaming. There was no way a dream could be this detailed, but then... what? What was I doing here?

 _Everything happens for a reason,_ I thought. It was a phrase I'd learned to say over the years, a mantra I tended to recite when confronted with things beyond my control. I was no stranger to thinking of the abstract, so; if I were really here for a reason, then what would it be? To fix a future event for the people here? To fix myself?

          The thought that I was dead crossed my mind yet again. If that were the case, this was a very interesting version of the afterlife; definitely not what I'd been led to believe through popular culture or even the Bible, which although I'd fallen out of reading or even believing in its pages, I would've liked to have had with me at the moment.

          Still, what kind of world had I fallen into, where people with cyan hair and red eyes were commonplace? Was I being rewarded? Punished? Tested?

          My mind churned away at these questions for a good while as I walked in silence.

          I finally arrived at a brick wall, much like the ones I'd seen at the front gate to _Sovyonok_ ; tall, orange, topped off by what looked like pointed wrought iron to prevent people from climbing up and over. I recalled the map showing the boundaries of the camp, giving _Sovyonok_ a rather wide footprint on the earth.

          The camp itself was only a kilometer long, but the walls enclosed at least three kilometers to the north of woods, and an indeterminate distance to the south. Beyond this was even more woods, and beyond that...

          I turned and began to follow the wall eastward, taking note of the lightening sky; it was very late—or very early. The horizon was a soothing shade of light blue, distant clouds turning orange, as though I were watching a sunset in reverse.

          The wall moved with the terrain, and as I came to the top of a considerable foothill, I stopped for a few moments, my walking stick in hand. Below me I could see all of _Sovyonok_ , its inhabitants still slumbering. In ways, it resembled a pioneer town—not in the Soviet sense. One could easily mistake it for a true place of commerce, a community where people lived out their daily lives, not just a place for young people during summer.

          A small boathouse on the south shore was lined with canoes, availing itself to the lake; a large expanse that stretched further than the eye could see, with two small islands within a fair distance. A lighthouse appeared on one of them, surrounded by rocks and trees. This place was a veritable resort.

          “I could do worse,” I said quietly, for once appreciating the moment. I hadn't done that in a while; standing quietly and feeling small. The experience was humbling, and I was compelled to sit and stare into the distance for some time, breathing slowly.

          After a time, I heard the snap of a twig nearby, and I quickly turned to see what it was; there could easily be wild animals out here; birds and even some wild dogs could negotiate walls and iron fences.

          From the trees to my right, I could see brilliantly golden, hip-length blonde hair crowning a gentle, yet strong face – my savior from my pursuers, Slavya, stood with a hand on her lips in embarrassment. She was dressed athletically, wearing a sleeveless black tracksuit and running shoes. “ _O!_ I… apology. You… _ispùgalis’?_ ”

          I shook my head; she was asking if she’d scared me. “ _Net._ Ah… _Dobroye utro._ ”

          Slavya smiled, coming closer. “You… learn?” she asked. I could tell that she was simplifying her speech as much as possible, doing her best to speak in English.

          I nodded. “How am I doing?” I asked.

          Her eyes narrowed a bit in confusion. “You are?” she asked.

          I was tired, and trying to draw from any of my studies was quite the task. I racked my brain for a moment, thinking of the common phrases. “ _Kak ya govoriu?”_

          She laughed. “ _U vas sil'nyy aktsent. No… milyy.”_

          A couple of words didn’t quite get through to me, but… “ _milyy”_ meant “cute”. Was she really calling my accent cute? Well…

          Without my asking, Slavya sat down next to me, small droplets of sweat adorning the sides of her face. “You… _begovoy?_ ” I asked.

          Slavya looked at me, and a tense chuckle came from her throat before she burst into spirited, loud laughter. It was quite obvious that my accent was far more than “ _milyy”_ to her at that moment. I knew I sounded silly, so I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

          Finally she nodded. “ _Da. Kazhdoye utro, poka vse spiat._ ”

 _Every morning, while everyone’s sleeping_ , she said. It seemed pretty straight-forward. “Days… busy?”

          Slavya smiled and looked back toward the camp. “ _Ya pomoshnik Olgi Dmitrievny.”_

          " _Pomoshnik"_ meant assistant, helper, aide… so she was Olga’s right-hand. That made a lot of sense. It explained her attitude when it came to helping me, as well as almost always being in the leader's presence.

          “Morning early… in way,” she added, obviously trying hard to word things in English for me. I didn’t immediately understand her, but she followed up. “All… way?”

          I nodded. “Always!” I made the connection. “Morning always comes early…”

          We were silent for a few minutes, listening to the wind in the trees. The crickets ended their nocturne, and the sky began to radiate; any minute now the sun would rise. It was all rather picturesque, even at this moment.

          Finally, she spoke again, looking at me with a soft, concerned glance. “You… run to away?”

          I was perplexed, but only a bit; with that usage and expression, it was pretty obvious what she was asking. “ _Ya…_ _dumal ob etom._ ” I answered.

          She seemed a bit off-put by my answer, but there was nothing harsh in her ice-blue eyes as she wrapped her arms around her bare knees, pulling them close to her shapely chest. “ _Pochemu_?” – Why? She pursed her lips.

          The thought had crossed my mind very briefly at one point. During the night, it would almost be easy to escape from the camp, depending on whether the gates were locked. Even then, the walls could be manageable with the right amount of guts.

          Still, I had no idea what lay beyond this place, and taking a gamble on where I'd end up wasn't necessarily prudent, especially when I had relative shelter and safety in the camp. “Could I? If I wanted to?” I asked, motioning to the wall with my eyebrows, signaling an up-and-over.

               Surprisingly, Slavya shook her head, actually understanding my meaning. I could see a bit of her orderly determination as she sat straighter. “ _Net._ _Ya…_ I… not to allow!” she struggled. _“_ _Ne ubegayte!”_

          I bristled slightly as her voice intensified. She seemed adamant, a tinge of anger in her face. I could empathize with her, sure, but how else was I supposed to feel in my position? And would she really stop me if I tried to go? “I only thought,” I told her, wording my sentence in Russian.

          “ _Pochemu_?” she asked again, her eyes focusing straight into mine. How could I hope to explain all of my reasons to her?

          How could I very well tell her that I wasn’t who everyone thought I was, that I didn’t belong here? And was I really that dissatisfied with everything I’d seen so far? Was I missing my old, dead-end life that badly to give up all of this?

          Or, in a different thought, to give up on her? This girl had been at bat for me since I’d arrived, along with Zhenya; admittedly, the latter girl had been a bit of a pain, but she’d slowly grown on me. Did I really want to get away from either of them, or any of the others in the camp who’d tried to help me?

          The only thing I could tell her was a very simplified version of all of the above. _“Toskuyu po domu,”_ I voiced clumsily. I was homesick, plain and simple.

          Slavya’s eyes softened then. “ _Ya_ … apology,” she stammered, the wind seeming to fall out of her sails. “ _Net..._ ah… _Ne serdites’ na menia.”_

          I shook my head. “I’m not angry,” I assured her with a smile; a universal gesture.

          She carefully scooted closer, almost bumping shoulders with me. It was a slightly odd moment; normally this sort of thing had a subtext… something special. It’d literally been years since I’d sat side-by-side with a young lady; and then, it’d been on the front porch of a friend’s house at 2 am in Felony Flats. It was nothing at all like this. I couldn’t help but feel humbled and somewhat unsure of myself.

          “I understand.” She spoke in almost a whisper. I recognized “ _Ya ponimayu”_ enough to hear it as plain as English.

          “It’s so different here,” I told her, trying my best to word things properly. I realized that I was speaking plainly in English, and she likely wasn’t picking it up. _“Ah… Eto ochen' otlicha… otl...”_

 _“Drugoye,”_ she corrected me.

          I nodded. _“Spasibo. Ya zasnul… Ya prosnulsia zdes’. V drugom mire.”_

          Slavya turned her head, her eyes looking directly into mine. They were so vivid in the dim light that I felt completely entrapped by them. “All days… _drugoy mir._ _Kazhdyy den' - eto drugoy mir_. _”_

          “Every day is a different world,” I translated aloud to myself. At least, that’s what I believed she said. Were it the case, it was a rather profound statement for anyone to make.

          She nodded, heaving a gentle sigh of relief. “ _Net_ to _ostavit’_ … surrender?” Her occasional word in English was heavily accented. I agreed; it was somewhat cute to listen to. She tried to reiterate, then acquiesced and went back to her native tongue. _“Ne otvorachivaytes' ot etovo mira.”_

_Don’t give up on this one._

          I wanted to respond, tell her about the torrent of thoughts that had suddenly begun to race inside my head, but silence was all that I could offer. Somehow we’d gone from barely understanding each other to apparently having a very deep conversation, but how was I to know? For all I knew, I was making too much of Slavya’s inspired wisdom.

          Even so, her words had levelled me, reaching through the barrier between us with deadly accuracy, as though intended by something far beyond the two of us, watching us as we sat on this hill in the woods shrouded in darkness. There was something surreal about this moment; a gentle, warm breeze passed us by, a mere whisper spoken of by the waving branches of the trees.

          Our eyes eventually separated. We sat and stared at the brightening horizon laced with clouds that were glowing an iridescent orange and yellow, like beacons in the distance that called for our utmost attention. It seemed that the entire world around us held its breath. I did. She did.

          At last the sun appeared; a bright sliver of light slicing its way through the shadow of earth. As it rose, the sky turned blood red, followed by violet. The waters of the lake illuminated a brilliant pink, waves moving in glowing ripples. It was simply surreal, something only seen in paintings, or in someone’s imagination.

          Could I be dreaming this up? My aching nose confirmed that I wasn’t, but I was still in awe of this amazing view, while next to me was an equally amazing-looking young woman who had somehow moved closer to me in our silent moments of spectating on the new day’s beginning. I couldn’t tell her in words that she’d understand, but I was glad to share the experience with someone like her. It’d been a first; even in my past relationships, I’d never shared a sunrise, and now I’d done so with this girl.

          If I were really, truly homesick as I’d claimed, I wouldn’t have been at that point. In a way, I felt that no matter how or why I was here, at this moment I was exactly where I was supposed to be, for once.

          I stole a sideways glance at her; Slavya’s eyes were closed, her fair complexion lit with a disarmingly beautiful glow. A look of sincere contentment was on her face as she seemed to tune in to the universe, becoming one with the earth and everything within it. _Jesus, am I falling for her already?_ I asked myself silently. Sure, it was very early yet, but if there were one incentive to keep myself in this camp, I’d gladly make her the reason.

          Alas, the moment couldn't last forever. As the sun showed its full form, she stood up and took a few steps forward, her slender, toned body vividly back-lit as she looked over her shoulder at me and smiled warmly, fondling one of her braids with her gentle, yet strong hands. She looked absolutely adorable at that moment. “To be... at going, now.”

          I tried not to stare blankly; there were certain parts of her body that drew attention quite nicely, and I didn’t want to spoil the moment by leering conspicuously at her, especially with the rising sun framing her in a perfectly beautiful moment. This strong, smiling blonde with icy blue eyes seemed to be birthed from the sky itself… _God, there I go again!_

          “ _Do svidaniya,_ Slavya _,”_ I breathed.

          With a very polite bow of the head, Slavya answered back with girlish joy in her voice. “ _Do svidaniya,_ Brion.”

          With that, she gracefully moved back toward the trees. Soon she was a distant figure, jogging back toward the camp.

          I sighed. Regardless of my “plight”, things could be much, much worse. Until I found out the how and why of this new existence, I had to at least try to find the good behind it all, in everyone.

          With this motivational gem, I stood up, brushed myself off and headed back toward the camp, walking stick in hand.

          Back at the tent, I barely made it to the sleeping bag before dozing off; my body finally succumbed to the need for decent slumber.

* * *

           Had Zhenya not burst in an hour later, I probably would have slept the entire day away. She threw the curtain flap open intrusively, casting the bright light of the new day directly into my eyes. My first reaction was to hiss and hold a clawed hand out like a vampire, which I did.

          “Good... morning. I see you slept well.” She stepped inside and took a brief look around. Already in uniform and ready for the day, I wanted to say that she was a welcome sight, but that would’ve been a lie; with my lack of sleep, nobody was going to look very good to me. “This place is a dump.”

          I let out a frustrated sigh. “Make yourself right at home. Coats go in the cloak room, near the foyer.”

          Zhenya cocked an eyebrow upward. “Are you alright?”

          “Peachy. Peachy keen.” I rubbed my eyes, irritated. The last thing I needed was Zhenya's crass attitude, especially at this hour. And she certainly seemed feisty today.

          “Olga Dmitrievna asked me to find you and have you get ready for the lineup. It's in half an hour, so you have time to prepare.”

          I nodded, still partly asleep. “Very well then,” I replied.

          Zhenya continued to inspect, kneeling at the pile of books next to my sleeping bag, as well as the notes. “Making progress?”

          “You tell me. Is there going to be an exam?” I asked.

          “Of course. Shouldn't there be?”

          I stood up, trying my best to balance; my body simply wasn't cooperating with me. At first it seemed as though I was back to being hungover again; of course, I hadn’t had a drop, but the body does react strangely when you come down from a heavy weekend.

          Zhenya made a poor effort of hiding her disgust, covering her nose as I tried to inconspicuously belch. “I... don't know how to say this, but... you really could use a bath, Brion. I can't imagine you making many friends if you smell like a truck driver.”

          Apprehension caught me: I'd sat and had that deep, meaningful conversation on that hill with Slavya while being so aromatic. Perhaps she hadn't noticed over her own sweat, or she was being extremely kind to me. _Grr._

          Oh well. Zhenya's comment still made me chuckle. “Smelled a lot of truck drivers in your day?”

           She wasn't amused at all. “My father is one. He smells horrible. Come on, grab your things and I'll show you where to wash.” She stood up and clapped her hands. “ _Da-vai, ee-diom!_ We don't have all morning, you know.”

           “Give me a minute, will ya?”

          She stomped a foot, her voice suddenly raising. “If you keep wasting time, I'll leave you here! I don't have to wait around for...”

           While locked in her fierce tirade, Zhenya was not prepared at all for my next move, a punishment for pushing all the wrong buttons on me when I'd only just awoken: I aggressively hugged her, pressing her face into my chest, which undoubtedly was ripe with the stench of sweat.

          I didn't let her go, either. Not for at least ten seconds, after her arms began to flail uncontrollably and she emitted a high-pitched whine that only dogs could hear.

          I finally released her, finding a reason to smile. “Alright, I'm good.”

          The Oscar could've gone to her right then; she hacked and wheezed, jet-black hair a mess as she took in painful-sounding breaths of air. _“You...”_ she hissed.

          I picked up my satchel and smiled as sweetly as I could muster. “Come on, let's go! We don't have all morning, you know!”

_Oh, if looks could kill..._

* * *

 

          Zhenya led me to the washing stands; one of several concrete-and-tile structures spread through the camp, about ten feet long with a tin roof. There were spigots lined up on both sides, a few of them running, presumably stuck in their “on” position. Set off to the sides were short wooden stalls with faucets built into them; one could guess what those were for.

          At first I was unsure, but seeing no other alternatives, I decided to go ahead and start washing. First came my teeth. I had a toothbrush, but was I really expected to just brush with water?

          “Use the powder.” Zhenya instructed.

          “What?” I asked, confused.

          She gingerly reached into my satchel and withdrew the tin of powder. “This is what you use for brushing your teeth. It's tooth powder. I know you Americans don't use it, but this is how it is done here. Understand?”

          Zhenya was well on her way to being a full-fledged teacher; a strict one, for sure. In all honesty, she probably would’ve been one of the ones that I didn’t care for much back in my school-going days. If it weren’t for her redeeming cuteness, I would’ve given up on her in a heartbeat.

 _What the hell,_ I thought. I wet the brush, scooped up some powder and had at it. It honestly wasn't much different from toothpaste, other than being slightly gritty in the mouth. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea to tell her what I originally thought of the stuff; I was going to start slapping the stuff under my arms and on my feet like talcum powder. She'd probably die of laughter.

          Once I finished with that, I made sure that she was looking off into the distance before removing my t-shirt, which I'd been wearing for a couple of days. I figured it would be best to lose it for now, stuffing it inside of the satchel to wash later. I pulled out the bar of soap, wet it, and began the tricky process of lathering my upper body without getting my pants soaked.

          It was definitely an odd situation; I was spoiled by the traditional shower stall. However, in USSR, things are surely different. Or perhaps I was being a klutz and didn't know it just yet.

          “So... did you sleep well?” Zhenya asked, still looking away.

          I guessed that some casual conversation couldn't hurt. “It wasn't quite a stay at the Plaza, but it will do.”

          “I will admit, it is a bit of a strange arrangement. There are cabins available. Not all of the pioneers returned this year.”

          I furrowed a brow. “So why would Olga Dmitrievna insist on me staying out in the elements?”

          She responded in her typical manner; slightly irritated. “Don't ask me. Lately our camp leader has been... odd.”

          I chuckled, putting the soap down and doing my best to rinse. “That's one way to put it, for sure.”

          “A year ago... something changed. She's always been predictable, but now... I'm not sure what to make of some of her behavior.”

          It seemed a bit odd that Zhenya was telling me this; Violetta had said something similar, but I’d simply brushed it aside. I looked over my shoulder at her, narrowly catching her as she averted her gaze— _busted!_ “She does deal with young people a lot... it's good to be adaptive,” I said, continuing the conversation.

          “That isn't what I'd call it, but... well, we can discuss it later. Keep going, we're running short of time.”

          I dried myself, then considered washing the rest of my body. I supposed it was doable; Zhenya was still purposely looking away, but there remained a bit of latent fear.

          “Don't look,” I said redundantly. Yep, I was going that direction. Had to.

          “Oh, please... don't flatter yourself!” she said crabbily. Hey, if the shoe fits…

          Off came the pants, then the boxers. I decided that if this was really happening, I should just be quick about it. I managed to get my clothes set aside, began to lather my body, and...

          The soap flew from my hand, bouncing at Zhenya's feet. “Um...” I offered, not quite sure how to continue.

          Zhenya almost didn't react, but a quick glance in her direction revealed that she was staring at the soap as though it were a hand grenade.

          “Don't worry about it,” I said, quickly going back to throwing water at myself and drying. I supposed this would have to do. Times were desperate, and I wanted to be done with this.

          Finally my pants were back on, then my belt, followed by my uniform shirt, which I made sure was tucked in. “You can look now,” I informed her.

          Zhenya rotated toward me, nearly motionless otherwise. I could tell that somehow I'd short-circuited her brain. And I hadn't even done anything! It was the soap's fault, after all.

          “Can you...”

          Her eyes went wide, but she finally reacted, grabbing the bar of wet soap, which was now thick with chunks of small pebbles and dirt. She chucked it in my direction, then began washing her hands at one of the faucets, panicking.

          “What are...”

          “I don't know what that has touched!” she shrieked.

          “What the hell are you implying, huh?” I'll admit, her crabby act was rubbing off quickly on me.

          “You know exactly what I mean!”

          “Actually, no! Explain, am I tainted meat or something???”

          Zhenya squeaked in a similar fashion to Lena from the night before. Apparently I used the wrong term, but I felt right about it regardless. “Just... just... hurry up! We're going to be late!” She said, fuming.

          She was losing her cool, which in a way was entertaining. Her face was a brilliant shade of red, almost matching the badge on her shirt. I decided to keep playing with her, adopting a teasing, almost juvenile tone. “Hey Zhenya, you know, in a way, you just touched my...”

          With a wet hand, she turned and slapped me good and proper. It lacked power, but I got the message. “Shut up and let's _go!_ ” With a huff, she began to make her way back toward the square.

          I quickly grabbed the rest of my things and followed her, smiling uncontrollably.

          We moved in a lively jog to the square, where all pioneers in the camp were arrayed in neat lines about ten people wide. My earlier assumption was correct; the number of those in the camp was around sixty, not including the staff and myself. They ranged in ages, some looking as young as ten, the oldest being all the ones I'd met previously.

          Electronik and Shurik stood proudly at attention on opposite ends of the front line, like bookends. They were in full dress uniforms, outfitted with drums and wearing blue “P-caps”. Both were carrying flag poles; Shurik's had an owl, while Electronik's had the ever-present Lenin and the flaming star – the official flag for the Young Pioneers.

          Slightly behind them was Lena, who noticed me and averted her eyes nervously.

          Ulyana and Alisa were in the back, playing some sort of slap me/slap you game. Upon meeting my gaze, Alisa lowered her brow and glared. I could somehow hear the voice of Clubber Lang from _Rocky_ _III_ in my head: “ _Deaaad meat._ ” Ulyana simply smiled like she'd won five thousand dollars a day for life and spent it all on candy. Oh, I would be having a few words with her, just wait and see...

          Slavya was buried somewhere in the middle, with no way in or out. I couldn't see her very well, but she was hard to really miss; her hair and somewhat tall stature made her stand out among most of the other pioneers.

          Zhenya and I finally took our places in the back, next to Miku and away from my two arch nemeses, and waited.

          Not ten seconds later, Olga Dmitrievna took her place up front. She carried herself with the air of a victorious dictator, ready to command her able and willing troops; all smiles. I could hardly believe that not twelve hours ago, she'd nearly broken my face.

           And so she began, with Zhenya translating for me. “Good morning, pioneers! I am so very happy to see many of you bright and early to start our second week! So many of you are on the way to becoming the great future of our motherland, and I hope you all are ready to study, work together and have experiences that you will carry with you, forever!

          “And the model pioneer is: That's right, always ready! We will learn to become better team members, prepared for any challenges that we may face in life! A pioneer keeps him or herself as a productive, morally-straight member of our future society!”

          I could quickly see that I was about to experience the most boring part of my day.

           Olga continued to unleash an onslaught of encouraging words and vague phrases, all for the continued glory of the Soviet Union. I thought I'd met the camp chatterboxes, but we had the queen of them all right here.

           Finally, while I was spacing out, I heard my name clearly, followed by Zhenya's elbow in my ribs. “May I have our American goodwill ambassador, Brion, come up front, please?”

          I snapped to attention. Nothing like starting the morning off right by standing in front of the entire camp, completely unprepared.

           Zhenya followed me past the ranks of watching pioneers, and we stopped in front of the entire assembled lineup. Everyone's eyes locked onto me, judging every movement that I made.

           Olga spoke to me, with Zhenya continuing to translate. “I hope that you have been enjoying your stay in our country and in _Sovyonok_. We would be very honored if you would introduce yourself and help us with raising the flag.”

           I cleared my throat. Public speaking wasn't beyond me; I'd done enough recitals and concerts to be practically bored onstage. I looked to Zhenya. "English?" I asked.

          She nodded. "Go ahead."

          “Greetings to all of you,” I began, making sure to sound proper. “My name is Brion Wohosky, and I am delighted to be here as your guest this summer. I look forward to meeting you all and... sharing great experiences with each and every one of you. This is a beautiful country, and a beautiful camp. Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

          I was satisfied with my little feel-good speech, and everyone else seemed to agree once Zhenya's translation reached their ears; a positive sign for once.

           Olga motioned to Slavya, who emerged from the lineup as though she were Moses, parting the Red Sea; a comparison that I found funny. She was carrying a very neatly-folded piece of red cloth in her arms...

            _The Soviet flag._

She promptly stopped in front of me, smiling warmly as the flag was passed to me. The gold hammer and sickle stood out boldly, solidifying my existence in this time and place. I felt an odd sensation, like the American blood in my veins was screaming.

           Then again, the Czech blood from my ancestors was level-headed enough to not drop the flag in surprise. I found myself handling it very carefully, my fingers running across the supple red fabric as I unfolded and attached the flag to the pole.

           Olga Dmitrievna nodded to me, then marched to join the lineup, along with Zhenya. I was left alone, holding the rope that would send the flag on its way.

           The loudspeakers in the camp crackled to life, almost deafening in volume. Every pioneer in sight raised their right hand with palm turned slightly out, separated from the forehead.

          And then they all began to sing to the accompaniment provided by the loudspeakers. I recognized it almost immediately; it was the Soviet national anthem. Every hair on my body stood on end.

          It was time. With one hand in front of the other, I slowly pulled the length of rope like I'd done several times in elementary school. I had the overwhelming fear that I'd let go, let the flag drop... Something that would make me the black sheep for the rest of my time here. In hindsight, I probably looked very reverent as I gracefully sent the flag of the USSR to fly over _Sovyonok_.

           The voices of the pioneers were powerful, and surprisingly in-tune and proud. Slavya, Zhenya... even Alisa and Ulyana! They looked onward with joy and pride in their eyes as they sang. I even spotted tears in the eyes of Olga Dmitrievna and Zhenya. Never in my life had I seen people so enthralled with patriotism.

          In a way, the thought depressed me. The little pin on my lapel seemed so insignificant, minimized. Homesickness stabbed at my heart for a moment, something cold in contrast to the warmth radiating forth from the lineup. As the wind unfurled the flag in the warm breeze, an eerie sensation spread over me; visions of the raising of the Red flag over Berlin came to mind.

            _God, what is all of this?_

          Once the flag reached the top of the pole, I tied it off and stood staring at it, as though I were being eclipsed in its shadow. Did I really feel threatened? Or was I simply ignorant? I had no way of describing how I felt.

          The anthem ended, and we were all dismissed for breakfast. I continued to stand there, the bright sun and the shadow of the flag in my eyes.

          Zhenya rejoined me, staring at me through slit eyes. “Well?”

          I wasn't sure how to respond. I simply looked at her, then back to the flag, then at the ground, hands in my pockets. Words simply failed me.

          “It's our country's flag, you know.” Zhenya reminded me of this, reading my mind like so many others seemed to do. Perhaps I was wearing all of my thoughts on my face—common for me.

          “I know. It's just...” I wanted to elaborate on the fear and hatred that even my generation, barely cognizant of the Cold War, had grown up with in the United States. However, Zhenya was the closest thing to a true ally I had at the moment, and she still believed that I was a goodwill ambassador; therefore I bit my tongue instead. “...Olga Dmitrievna,” I said, abruptly changing the topic.

          We both looked at our camp leader, who was busy watching the departing pioneers under her white Bermuda Casual. She seemed pleased with herself, completely at ease, as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. I couldn't bring myself to believe that this same woman had slammed me into the canteen's floor the night before.

           “She seems so normal now, but...” Zhenya whispered.

           Olga turned toward us, a look of puzzlement on her face, then came over and smiled warmly. “Good morning, you two!” she said. My new language skills were able to decipher at least that much, well enough to be understood like English to my ears.

 _“Dobroye utro._ ” Zhenya and I responded simultaneously.

           From there, I was able to catch a few words without Zhenya's help; Words such as “Good”, “task”, “remember”, “English” and “Russian”. I was still severely handicapped, but I could put things together by inference fairly easily.

          Olga followed the rest of the pioneers to the canteen, leaving me standing alone with Zhenya. “Well?” I asked.

          “It will be another long day of study. Additionally, our camp leader wants me to make sure that you see all of the camp and join a club. You're not ready for that, surely.”

           I wanted to disagree with Zhenya's deprecating statement, but then... she was correct. I couldn't go anywhere without her yet, not without great difficulty. Not only that, but I couldn't lean on Slavya, Electronik or Lena for help; they had their own lives to lead.

          “We'll figure it out,” I said, my stomach audibly rumbling. “Breakfast?”

          “Yes, let's.”

          We left the square behind, but I took one last look at the Red flag still waving in the summer wind, beckoning to me in my mind, in a deep, silent voice in my head.

_Welcome, Comrade._


	5. "Character"

          Breakfast consisted of tea, several slices of heavy wheat bread, a sausage, and porridge with a consistency like glue. I didn't want to go hungry today, so I did my best to choke everything down before some new event took place.

           “Tell me about the clubs. What is there to do here?” I asked.

          Zhenya handed me a napkin; apparently, I wasn't exhibiting good table manners in her book. “Every pioneer has to join at least one club for the duration of their summer here. The focus is to build personal and professional skills.”

           An evil laugh popped up from my throat. “Professional _robot building_ skills?”

           She bit her tongue. After taking a moment to hold her mouth, tears in her eyes, she slammed both of her fists on the table. “Don't you _dare_ join that ridiculous club! Such nonsense!”

           A couple of other pioneers at our table were a bit alarmed by Zhenya's fiery outburst, but they continued to eat. “What's the matter with it?” I asked.

           “What's the _matter_ with it? What _isn’t_ the matter with it is more like it!” Up popped her antenna in its classic manner.

           “Look.” I put my spoon down to talk a bit with my hands. “You get so worked up about anything involving that club! Is it Shurik? Or...” I looked around the canteen quickly, but didn't see our resident robot-niks anywhere.

           “It… Is... _Not_ what you think.” Zhenya said quietly, smoothing her hair down and continuing to eat.

           “Yeah? And what do I think?”

           She pointed her finger at me, somewhat rudely. “Do _not_ play dumb. You were about to say it.”

           “Well, do you want me to say it or not?” I asked irritably.

           “Just shut up and eat so we can go study!”

           I decided to obey her; if my sass continued, I'd probably be on my own to learn Russian for the rest of the day, if not the rest of my life. Plus, Zhenya looked like she was about to keel over from high blood pressure.

          Just at the end of our meal, I felt a hand come to rest upon my shoulder. It was gentle, yet imposing. I looked up to see Nurse Violetta, who, instead of her uniform, was dressed in a black tracksuit that hugged her ample hourglass figure like a glove.

           “Hmm… _Zdrastvuy,_ Pioneer. I see that you are adjusting well to our camp,” she said with a sly smile, eyeing the two of us.

           My throat went dry. I already thought that Violetta was gorgeous and somewhat threatening, but like this—devastating. I suddenly felt very, very small in her presence.

           “If you are finished here, I have a task for you,” she continued. “I trust that you will not object.”

           No words came to me. I couldn't even agree; all I could do was stare blankly, my mouth hanging partway open.

           Zhenya coughed, then crossed her arms in a firm display of authority. “Actually, he's coming with me. We have studies, and Olga Dmitrievna...”

           Violetta's face went cold and expressionless as she addressed my friend. “I am sure that our camp leader will understand,” she said, her gaze intensifying with every second, causing Zhenya to shrink down in her chair. Even at the height of rage, I doubted the short young bookworm could ever come close to countering this Italian _femme-fatale._

            _“So?”_ Violetta looked back to me.

           I fought for words. I felt panic; terror, even! For once in my life I was deftly afraid of a woman! Finally, I was able to respond. “...Ok. I suppose.”

           She subtly shook her head. “You surely have more testosterone than that. Answer me as a man would answer.”

           There was that cold look again. I definitely couldn't refuse, but I couldn't see myself agreeing without feeling like a preteen boy. I dug deep down for courage, and uttered the only word that I could find. “Yes.”

           The nurse smiled hedonistically. “Much better. Come now. Your young lady friend can _surely_ meet with you later.”

           Zhenya simply stared at her plate, defeated. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her.

* * *

           Outside, the temperature was rising rapidly, the sun rising high above the trees. It was going to be another scorcher, much like yesterday.

           Now that we were relatively alone, I felt like I could speak to Violetta a bit more candidly. “So what is this task?” I asked.

           “No questions.” She stated bluntly. “You will keep pace with me, and you will not stop, _capisce_?” She began to stretch her body, looking me dead in the eyes, even as she leaned forward and back, side-to-side. “If I were you,” she continued, “I would roll up those silly long pants of yours. You will be glad that you did.”

           Indeed, it was a bit odd to me that I was the only male pioneer who'd been issued long pants; all others wore shorts. I didn't particularly mind it; short pants were never my style.

          I did as she told me, rolling my pant legs into cuffs that went just below my knees. “How is this?” I asked.

           Violetta leaned forward, her face mere inches from mine, and looked down at my calves, smirking. “You surely don't play rugby.”

           “What?”

           She giggled. “However… you know what they say about boys with short pants.”

          I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t want to; I’d heard a line in an Italian film regarding boys with short pants before. Was she _really_ referring to what I thought she was referring to?

           Not giving me time to answer, she was off in a brisk, effortless jog, ponytail flailing in the breeze. She moved swiftly and gracefully like a gazelle, heading off into the distance with ease.

_Damn, I'm supposed to keep up with that?!_

           In hindsight, I could have chosen that moment to escape; she wasn't a disciplinarian, despite being intimidating. Then again, her running skills were obviously superior to mine; escape may not have been an option.

           At any rate, my want to follow directions, — along with raging hormones – propelled me after her. I felt like some sort of slave; a rat in a science lab, running on a wheel for a promised treat.

           She slowed down only temporarily as I caught up, doing my best to keep my breath. Once I was even with her she picked up speed again, running without a single apparent ounce of discomfort or difficulty.

           
          And so we ran. _Sovyonok_ had a generous athletic field; two goals set up for soccer—football, rather—and a running track. We made one lap, then two, then three...

          By the time we closed in on the last curve of the track, my lungs were burning; I was never much of a distance runner, especially as a teen. I was much better at sprinting, which came in handy yesterday.

          “Having trouble, are we?” said Violetta, in mid-run. She was just barely breaking a sweat; most likely due to the heat, not the running itself.

           “No, I...” I gasped, wheezing as I tried to keep up with her.

           “Be honest, Pioneer. It is much more admirable when a man doesn't lie to save face to a woman.”

           I could have picked apart the logic in her statement, but my brain was on fire along with my lungs. Being slightly out of shape was one problem; having very little sleep was the biggest one. Try as I might, my legs just weren't in shape for this. I wished I was my older self at that point; dead-lifting, hitting the gym on a regular basis. Being young just wasn't worth this trouble!

           When we finally passed the finish line a fourth time, Violetta stopped, sighing in relief. She was sweating, but not enough to look like she'd expended herself at all. It gave her olive skin a radiant glow in the morning sun.

           “As I expected,” she said, crossing her feet as she stared at me. I was doubled over, fighting to get air into my lungs, on the verge of having an asthma attack...

            _I had asthma at this age_ , I remembered. It wasn't as strong of an issue as when I'd first been diagnosed at age thirteen, but it was still prevalent in my high school years. Was there any medication available here?

_Slow... breathe through your teeth. In.... out...._

Thankfully, I was able to stave off the need for medicine; however I couldn't help the coughing and wheezing. It would take a while for me to fully regain my lung capacity, but at this point I'd be able to gain my second wind.

           “Are you ready?” she asked, stretching her legs.

          I held a hand out. “Hold on.”

           She seemed displeased. “As your health care professional, it is my duty to evaluate and strengthen your wellness, Brion. I can see that you leave much room for improvement.”

           I looked up at her, knowing a challenge when I heard it. She had a look of amusement on her face, brows arched. “I'm... not as fit as you,” I admitted.

           “Very true. I have been running since I was a young girl in _Fiorenza_. I ran from young boys like you even then. Occasionally I'd let them catch me.” She added a bit of a girlish laugh, and I would've laughed too if I didn't feel like I was dying. “All things considered, you are not in horrible shape; not like some Americans I have met. However, we have much work to do, and so I will run slower. But we _will_ run again.”

           With that, she grabbed my left hand and pulled me along, forcing me to make another lap around the track. I did my best to remember every trick I'd used as a teenager when forced to run for Physical Education class; even breaths, mouth only, as even as I could muster. I tried to lift my feet up, turning my run into a spirited jog instead.

           These things barely helped, but before too long we both passed the finish line a second time, then a third, then a fourth, finally coming to a stop. At that point both of us were roasting in the hot sun. I felt like I was melting; any more of this and I'd pass out. Violetta was covered in sweat as well, but still wasn't breathing heavily. I envied her greatly.

           “Now then... you just ran three kilometers. How do you feel, Brion?”

           “Honestly? Like death,” I replied.

           She was amused by my statement. “That is only the beginning. You will also lift weights. We will work on a regimen for you that you will keep every day, understood?”

          Only one question came to mind. “Why? Why me? How come none of the others are out here with us?”

           “It is important for young men such as yourself to get involved with sporting activities. While it is not required here at Sovyonok… our program has run rather empty due to this option. Therefore, you will be the star pupil, _Bello._ Please say that you will agree.”

          Other than the occasional football match, I hadn't seen much in the line of extracurricular activities in my short time here. I could see the logic in her madness, and I did express an internal desire to return to my previous state of fitness at age thirty, but... just not all at once. “I suppose… I mean, yes. I agree, Violetta.”

           “Good,” she answered appreciatively. “You have managed to make friends with a number of our... younger female pioneers. That is also a good thing,” she said, uncrossing her feet and placing her hands on her hips. “However... they will like you even more with some muscle and stamina on you. You would agree with this as well, wouldn’t you?”

           I nodded, listening to the distant chirps of birds chasing each other in the trees. “I'd survive longer.” My breath was slowly returning to manageable.

           “That is one way to look at it. So... follow me, Pioneer. We have only just begun your training.”

          I was led away from the running track and into the gymnasium, which was a tall, imposing square building nearby. It was cooler inside, which was good, but the smell of old sweat was strong.

          Inside was an elaborate setup; mats, balance beams, bars— all set up for gymnastic work. In one corner was a set of benches and weights; dumbbells, barbells, jump ropes, a punching bag and a medicine ball. It was far from technologically advanced, but it would do its job.

          Violetta grabbed some weights; 20kg Olympic-sized plates, and put them on opposite ends of the barbell. Then she sat on the bench. “Give me a spot, will you?” she asked.

          I did as I was told, watching as she lifted the whole bar with controlled ease. It didn't look like she needed a spotter at all, but then... the view from where I stood was rather rewarding; every time she'd push the bar away, her arms would press her ample breasts together. I had to focus attention on her face, which even under duress was staring up at me, amused. She obviously knew what was happening in my mind, and she continued.

           After three sets of fifteen repetitions, she sat up, looking satisfied with herself.

          “That was impressive,” I remarked, trying to be supportive. It was rare to see a female bench-press, let alone that much weight. It wasn't that much by a man's standard, but it was still nice to see her do it.

          “And now... your turn, Pioneer. Try not to be as much of a weakling here as you were out there,” she told me condescendingly.

           In truth, I didn't do badly. Even in my teen years, I could bench-press this much weight on a regular basis. The problem was the pain from Olga Dmitrievna's tackle the night before; my muscles and parts of my bones were still trying to recover.

           To make matters worse, Violetta was spotting me, and I knew that she enjoyed distracting me. It was much easier for her to do so now that she was looking down at me, legs near my head… those same imposing hunks of flesh beckoning to me.

            _Damn it, pay attention!_ I thought, almost losing my grip on the bar. That was all I needed; drop the bar on my neck, kill myself. What a way to go.

Three sets slowly went by, and I was finally rewarded with polite applause from her. “That wasn't so bad, now was it?”

           “No... not really,” I lied.

           She went to the weight rack and pulled out a clipboard, which looked slightly dusty from disuse. Out came a pencil, which she began writing with in a rapid fashion. “You will lift more weight every other day in the same manner,” she instructed. “I will be checking this sheet as well, so... I would advise you not to cheat.”

           We continued, and by the end of the session she had me do weighted squats, curls, overhead presses... the list grew and grew. The glue-like substance that I'd eaten for breakfast was helping me get through the workout; there was no way that I had that energy stored up elsewhere.

           Of course, Violetta was a good motivator. However, she informed me conversely at the end: “You will likely be training on your own from time to time; I do have duties at the infirmary, as you well know. I won't always be here to give you a push, Pioneer.”

            _Crap_. I was beginning to enjoy this method, but you can't always get what you want.

            
          Finally, the horn for lunch sounded through the camp, just as I finished my first successful walk across the balance beam; I'd fallen off a few times prior. “That will end our session for today,” she said with a sigh. “I hope you enjoyed yourself... as much as I did.”

          I simply gave her a shrug and a smile; it was all I could really offer as a comment.

          She looked at me slyly and spoke once more in a somewhat secretive tone. “Do take good care of that little librarian. She _is_ rather darling, if not completely lacking in social graces.” _  
_

          “I... there isn't...” I stammered.

          She didn't falter. “At any rate, I hope you speak good Russian before long; I’d love to converse with you further. _Arrivederci,_ Brion.” Violetta completed our conversation and swiftly exited the gymnasium, leaving me alone.

          What was she implying? Did she really think that there was something going on between me and Zhenya after only two days at camp?

          In honesty, I would never say that Zhenya was unattractive, but... she wasn't Slavya. Or Lena. Or even Miku. I could definitely admit attraction with any of them, but between me and Zhenya… It wasn't impossible, but I wasn't actively searching for ways to win her over.

           With that thought done with, I headed off to the canteen, feeling ragged in more ways than one.

          Lunch was a much-needed helping of rye buns, kompot, boiled potatoes and a thick cutlet of meat. I was fortunate to actually receive two; I knew my muscles would be needing every ounce of nutrition from the day's activities.

          The canteen was packed as usual, but there was one seat available: across from Slavya. I quickly made my way over. “Mind if I sit?” I asked, indicating my intent with my plate.

          Slavya was absent-mindedly poking at her lunch, apparently lost in thought. As she slowly looked up at me, her attitude immediately improved. “ _Da_! Be a guest,” she replied.

          I sat down, feeling instant relief to be off my feet. She eyed me for a few seconds, then laughed. “You looking... _ustavshiy_ _!”_

          “Tired” was severely understating it, but it was probably for the best. I hadn't bothered to wash up since running or lifting weights, so I was sure that I resembled a walking disaster. “Nurse Violetta kept me busy,” I explained.

           At first Slavya looked a bit puzzled, perhaps worried when I said this. I quickly followed up. “Lifting weights. Running. B _egovoy,_ ” I said with a wink and a chuckle.

           “Ah! _Da_. She is good substitute coach,” she replied. Interestingly enough, I was beginning to understand her more and more, little by little, even though she was using few words in English. My studies were starting to pay off already. It was fading in and out, like a television picture appearing through static.

          “Do you… lift?” I asked, communicating this by miming with my hands.

           She giggled. “ _Net._ _Ya predpochitayu plavan’ye._ ” She made a “swimming” motion with her hands.

           I raised my glass of kompot and drank, giving her a thumbs-up. We’d make it through this conversation somehow, even if it looked more like a game of charades than an actual dialogue.

          “So, you raise flag...” She continued with the miming. “It very... good at you. You looked proud.”

           “ _Spasibo_. It was… _zaniatno_.” I replied, doing my best to hide the misgiving feelings being portrayed by my eyes.

           “What why?” Slavya looked puzzled, if not a bit offended by my choice of words.

           I explained to her as best as I could: the tension between our countries was no strange concept; even in my time there were many misgivings, misconceptions... lots of things that would have to be worked around during my time in this camp.

          Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell her that in the 21st century, Americans still had an irrational, bigoted fear of Russian people, despite the fact that we’d never been full-blown enemies of each other. And of course, trying to convey all of this through miming and clumsy spoken word was likely an exercise in futility, but I tried my best.

           In the end she nodded slowly, a look of empathy in her eyes. “ _Ya ponimayu_. We and American... not different. Yet...”

           She tentatively placed her fingers on the badge of Lenin on her lapel. I was compelled to look in the same place for myself, seeing my gleaming American flag. I somehow understood what she was getting at.

          There wasn't much more to say on the topic, so we both ate in relative silence, making small talk from time to time. I wanted desperately to ask her about some of the things she’d said in the early morning on the hill, but there was no way of knowing for sure what she’d meant without expanding my knowledge of the language. It was a sorry but true fact that had to be addressed if I really wanted to know her better.

          Regardless of our speaking difficulties, we left together, stopping to make small talk at the bottom of the steps. With light in her eyes, she pointed to a nearby tree that extended high above the canteen’s roof. _“Smotri!”_  

          In the highest branches, a group of tiny birds could be seen flitting about, their short, descriptive chirps providing a rhythmic soundtrack to the hot morning air. _“_ _Ziabliki,”_ she said, briefly taking an instructive tone. 

          Finches. I’d always had decent eyes, but the little orange-billed birds were difficult to see from down here. Slavya must’ve had better eyes than mine. “They sure are talkative… um…” I attempted to say the word for “Chatty”, but it ended up tumbling from my mouth, sounding like “Bluh-bli-bli.” 

          Slavya laughed loudly, holding her sides in uproarious laughter. I was glad to see her so carefree; I could tell that her mood had much improved since I’d first sat with her.

          Alas, the laughter had to end; she daintily reached out to my wrist, looking at my watch. “Unfortunate... I have going,” she told me with a bit of displeasure in her eyes. “Want… helping? _Ubirat' ploshchad'?_ With me?”

          The thought of doing manual labor – sweeping the square – with the small amount of energy I had left was only made attractive by the thought of spending more time around this girl. However, I was feeling the pain of not being able to fully understand her or the rest of the pioneers in this camp again.

          Ultimately, that was more important in my mind. I felt like a bit of a loser to refuse, but it was necessary. “Sorry,” I told her. “Studying... er, _uchoba_. But... next time? _Sleduyus…._ Ah, damn it…”

          Slavya giggled brightly, nodding her head. “ _Kak milo!_ O-kay. _Pozhzhe_!” And with that, she energetically wandered off in the direction of the square, leaving me standing there, feeling a bit fuzzy on the inside. _Bad,_ I thought. _It’s only your second day! This is bad!_

  
          Whatever. Feeling a bit higher in spirit, I practically ran back to the tent, grabbed my books, threw some water on my face at the washing stands and confidently strode into the library. Even if it meant that I’d have to become a complete social outcast, living among the books, I was going to learn this language, and soon.

           Zhenya was seated at her counter, head down, taking a nap. Apparently she’d missed lunch to catch up on some shut-eye time. She looked peaceful, and I felt bad to have to wake her, but there were matters at hand.

          “Mm?” she purred as I shook her arm. She then snapped awake in a panic, a sheet of paper sticking to her chin. It fell to the desk quietly.

          “Sorry to disturb your... Rest...” I quipped.

           “I'm awake! I've been awake. This whole time.” She replied, her voice trailing off.

           “Sure... I've come for the next lesson.”

           She crossed her arms, doing her best to be subtle about something that was bothering her. That temper was going to be the death of her eventually. “Sure you wouldn't rather study biology with our _nurse_?”

 _Oh God, here we go..._ I thought. Was she really jealous that I was spending time with another woman? Where did that even to begin to matter with us? “She had me lift weights and run around. That’s all,” I replied, arching a brow. “I'm not sure what you're mad about, but I'm here to be taught what I need to know, by you.”

          “Oh, so there's just one use for me? Is that how it is?” She looked at me sideways, burning at me intensely with one of her hazel eyes. Holy crap, this girl really _did_ have something running in her head about me. There was no mistaking it!

          After the morning I’d had -- tiring but enjoyable overall -- an argument was the last thing on my aspiration list. I lost my temper. “If you want to lift weights with me, you're more than welcome!” My fatigue rose up like a hidden demon behind my back. “Otherwise I would've spent the whole damn day with you, if that's what you're looking for!”

           Zhenya's eyes went wide, irises quivering with fright. “I... you would really do that?”

           I threw my hands up into the air in exasperation. “ _Duh!_ Why not? You're helping me to survive! And you're... more or less fun to be around when you're not getting mad all the time!”

           Zhenya looked as though I’d just said something she’d wanted to hear all of her life, but either hadn't or didn't believe it. “I'm... fun?” she asked.

           “Well... yeah.” I scratched my neck, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “You may be a little blunt with people, but... that means you're genuine. And it's fun to be around those kinds of people.”

           “Hm.” Was her short reply. She looked away from me and back toward her desk, pursing her lips and pressing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. It was like a light had been turned on somewhere in her mind, altering her perception of the world.

           And then she was back; this time she was actually smiling, which I hadn't seen much of, except for when she'd ramble. “Okay. I’m sorry. I suppose I… shouldn’t have lost my temper.” She laughed nervously, brushing her hair back over her ears.

           “Likewise.”

           She instantly perked up, leaving the counter and breezing past me on the way to the reading table where we’d spent all of the previous day. “Okay, ready then? We'll go over more complex nouns, verbs and adjectives today...”

          We settled in for a long afternoon at the reading table, Zhenya excitedly bouncing in a chair that she sat in backwards while going over the lesson material. It was still difficult to concentrate on her every word due to lack of sleep, but I continued to scribble as many notes as possible.

           This continued without as much as a single interruption, all the way through dinner at the canteen. At one point, Miku wandered over during the middle of our lecture, standing motionless at the sheer torrent of words being uttered in a single train of thought – words not coming from her, that is.

           I could do nothing to help her; with books and notes occupying whatever empty space was left around our tableware, I was in no condition to talk with the sprightly cyan-haired girl, who stood silently and spectated as Zhenya dictated in between bites.

          By the time we returned to the library, my brain had turned into a spongy mass, simply soaking things in, but I'd lost all other cognitive functions. Zhenya was a true Soviet propaganda machine—for the Russian language, no less. There was simply no stopping her; she’d be great for a live broadcast, just set her and let her go!

  
          In fact, it was only that night, after ten minutes of her continuing to jabber outside my tent in the dark that she finally stopped; somebody from a nearby cabin on the southern shore could actually hear her, and we were greeted with what I began to recognize as the Russian equivalent of _“Shut the fuck up!”_

           “Well... I guess that's the end of today's lesson!” she concluded happily.

          “Good!” I gave her a thumbs-up, uncomfortably shifting the satchel hanging from my shoulder. I could barely feel my extremities; my muscles were near complete exhaustion from lack of sleep, along with my morning workout. I was more than ready to hit the sleeping bag.

          “So, if you have any questions...”

          I waved a hand. “I can ask them tomorrow. I think you more than covered the lesson material today.”

          She looked at me coyly, with a mischievous smile. “So, you’re ready to talk to me fully in Russian, then?

          “What?? No, no way!” I laughed.

          She looked slightly disappointed. "Really? After all that?" she asked.

          “Well, come on, you can’t expect me to just learn like that; what about practical application? Repetition? Practice?”

          She nodded approvingly. “Your study habits are getting better. There may be hope for you, Mister Ambassador.”

          I had yet to really know the inhabitants here at _Sovyonok_ , but as far as I knew, only Zhenya used such a descriptor for me. Everyone else treated me like one of their own, but with her I was either a lowly student or some sort of foreign dignitary.

          With conversation drying, we both stood there, silence and the sounds of crickets enveloping us.

          “May I ask you something?” she asked nervously.

          I was slightly apprehensive about answering her. “Um... yes?”

          She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “What you said earlier, about... me being fun. You meant that, right?”

          _This again?_ “Of course. Why would I lie?”

          “It's just...” She swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “People don’t make me feel that way. In fact, I was avoided and ignored when I was younger, so that's.... why. It’s also why I haven’t stopped talking today; I don’t want to stop being fun, you know?”

          I wasn't sure of the customs of different countries at that point in time, but I decided to throw caution to the wind; I moved in and gently gave Zhenya a hug. At first she acted as though she’d go ultrasonic again, but I made sure to not squash her face like earlier; this was supportive, friendly. Plus, I no longer smelled of the robust combination of morning breath, vodka and sweat.

          With the way she’d been acting lately, I was almost expecting her to sigh, squeeze me tighter, or do something to make it more than it was, but it didn’t happen.

          When we finally separated, she adjusted her glasses and hair, acting a bit flustered, but otherwise in control of herself. “Thank you,” she said.

          “You’re welcome. Anything else?” I asked.

          She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. How’s living in a tent working for you?”

          “It’s not as bad as it seems,” I admitted. “It would be nicer to sleep on a bed, but for the most part it’s manageable.”

          Zhenya issued a quick laugh, brushing her hair back over her ear again. “I’ve only been camping once in my life. My father insisted on it. I was covered in bug bites, and he insisted that I help him with everything, from carrying the gear, to rowing the canoe, to pitching the tent. Sometimes I think he wanted a boy.”

          The mental picture that I was drawing from Zhenya’s vignette was entertaining. While I couldn’t exactly picture her father as anything other than a short, chubby truck driver, probably with a round face and scruff, I could easily see a young Zhenya, looking remarkably similar to present but smaller, with the same oval glasses and covered in little red dots from mosquitoes. Surprisingly, I hadn’t run into many of those yet.

          “Well,” I chuckled, “I’m sure it made you quite the strong young lady with a lot of character.”

          She eyed me suspiciously, pressing her glasses higher with a single finger. “He used to say the same thing to me. The one time I finally agreed to go with him, he drank _Stoli_ all night long, sang baudy songs in his sleep, then got up early in the morning and shot a deer one-handed while taking a leak.” She paused, staring at me blankly. “Character.”

          “You gotta be kidding me.”

          She shook her head. “I wouldn’t make that up if someone paid me. Do you know how to dress a deer after you shoot it? Well, I sure do.” Zhenya’s eyes seemed to register a thousand-yard stare as she thought about her past. It was a very odd story, but I wouldn’t call her a liar; the short bookworm with the drunk, truck-driving father, holding a rifle in one hand, while the other…

          “What about here?” I asked, deciding to move the conversation forward. “You don’t call this camping?”

          “Not really,” she replied. “ _Sovyonok_ is more like a school than anything else. Of course, we get to do fun things here, but… I spend most of my time indoors, for obvious reasons. That little hunting trip made me appreciate any time I can spend under a roof.”

           I smiled appreciatively. “That’s one hell of a story. I never would’ve guessed that about you.”

          “You’re one of the only people outside of my family that I’ve told it to,” she said. “When we got back, my mother didn’t seem all that surprised, of course. But for me, living at home, without friends, reading all the time… with dad almost always on the road… I didn’t know him all that well. I still don’t, really. It wasn’t the best of bonding experiences.”

          I thought about my own parents. As much as I’d become a grown man, I had to admit that my family was an essential part of me, no matter where I went. It made me think of just what I was going to do if I never saw them again; if there was no coming back from this time or existence, whatever this was…

          “Anyway,” she said, twisting her foot girlishly into the ground, “I don’t want to keep you with my sorry stories.”

          “Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “I’m hearing about the Zhenya that not many know about. If anything I’d invite you in, hear a few more.”

          Her eyes widened. “You’re inviting me in? You mean, to sit alone with you in your _tent?_ ”

          Now that I thought about it, my idea didn’t sound nearly as good now as it had when coming out of my mouth. On my second day here, asking a young lady into my dark, humble abode didn’t exactly sound innocent. Never mind what I’d heard about European women; this probably wasn’t the best thing to ask.

          “Er… on second thought, maybe another time,” I corrected myself.

          “Another time.” She confirmed. I wasn’t quite sure if she meant it affirmatively or if she was simply repeating my statement. It may have been the dim light, but I could’ve sworn that her pale cheeks were turning red. “Right. Well, I should get going. Slavya will wonder where I am if I don’t get back soon.”

          “Oh?” I asked, “Why’s that? Is there a bed check, or something?”

          She shook her head. “She’s my roommate. In fact, she was talking all about you last night. It was a little strange, to be honest.”

 _Oh really?_ My mind began to wander a bit with that thought. Never in my life had I found myself talking to so many women, let alone being talked about. It was an odd, yet satisfying feeling. And who better than Slavya?

          “What do you think of her?” Zhenya’s sudden query sounded rather blunt as she focused her gaze directly on my eyes. I had a feeling that there was more to the question than met the eye.

          I found myself sprawling for an answer that didn’t make me sound like some moonstruck fool. “She’s… nice. I don’t really know, though. I have a hard time talking to her. Why? What does she think of me?”

          In an attempt to be subtle, Zhenya bit her lip. “There’s nothing to tell.”

          “Come again?” I asked, quite interested now, despite my tiredness. This was a particularly ripe topic for me.

          “I _said_ there’s nothing to tell,” she replied moodily. “You’ll figure it out for yourself.”

          “Well, why’d you ask, then?”

          “Never mind! Anyway, get some rest. We’ll start first thing with lessons again tomorrow.”

          The thought of more studying at a time like this was nearly unbearable, but I knew that Zhenya was right; I needed as much time on the books as possible.

          With that, she turned and calmly made her way back up the path, toward the square.

          “ _Do svidaniya,_ Zhenya,”I called after her.

          “Bye, Brion.”

          I was never so glad to finally get out of my uniform and lay down on the sleeping bag, even with the hard ground beneath me. It had been a long day with a few ups and downs, but overall it was a success. Things were starting to get a bit brighter for me around here; I knew who my friends were, and I had an idea of how to conduct myself. Unlike when I'd first arrived, an acceptance of my situation was slowly forming.

          My dreams were fairly vivid; flashes of Slavya, Zhenya, Violetta... I was being surrounded by women in my dreams as well as my waking world. It was quite surreal no matter which reality I happened to find myself in. If this world was some sort of afterlife... there were definitely worse places to end up.

          Still, the real question of why I had been taken from the world I knew to be put here was still yet to be found. Yet with every passing minute and hour, as I continued to be welcomed into this place, the desire to hunt for those answers was fast fading away, replaced by acceptance. For now, I could survive here. I could possibly even thrive here in _Sovyonok_ , for as long as it would last.

          After that, who could tell? Would I wake up back at home one day? Would all the people, all the occurrences here just be a dream? A distant memory, never to be seen again? Or would I be forced to brave this new world with nothing but cunning and wit to survive?

          I couldn't say for sure, but in a way, I found myself feeling more and more at home.


	6. Double Trouble - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our protagonist falls deeper into the seedier and more mysterious elements of the Sovyonok Pioneer Camp...

          Several days passed in a similar fashion. The passing of every night was an enigma to me; I often wondered if I’d go to sleep, and suddenly wake up back home. It didn’t happen – nothing seemed to indicate that it would.

          Oddly enough, things seemed to settle down into a routine. The other pioneers left me alone enough to where I could bury myself in studies, spending most of my waking hours with Zhenya, who would happily dictate to me for hours on end.

          In ways, this all became rather boring; study, work out, eat, study more, and keep my head down. While we would take the occasional study break, the librarian was very much like a devilish little conscience on my shoulder, poking my ear with her pitchfork every time I thought about taking it easy.

          I made sure to keep from making direct contact with people I'd deemed as hostile; mainly Alisa and Ulyana, who had more than proven themselves to be the resident troublemakers of _Sovyonok_. Luckily, neither of them seemed to have any desire to go into the library, which worked in my favor; it became my safe haven.

          However, anytime I was out and about, I’d catch the occasional seething glance thrown my way by Alisa, reminding me to watch my back; one day, she was sure to exact her vengeance on me, for God knew what reason.

          On occasion, I’d also catch a glimpse of the red-haired Flame popping through the bushes; a minion of equal or lesser value if I’d ever seen one. It seemed that she was beginning to hover around the square and the library exterior more and more, keeping tabs on me.

          I even kept my distance from Slavya and Lena; not because I didn't want to speak with them, but I wanted to make sure that the next time I did, we wouldn't be separated by any language barrier. I also didn’t want to offend Lena again; she hadn’t spoken a word to me since the first night, and would practically run away when she’d see me coming.

          However, Zhenya was dedicated to being a good teacher, and by my fourth day at _Sovyonok,_ I'd graduated to slightly advanced words and phrases, conversing fully in Russian every once in a while. Sometimes she'd get frustrated with me, but with practice I was getting the vowels and sentence structure more in place.

          Also, thanks to Violetta’s insistence, I began to put on muscle; baby muscles, for sure, but a glance in a window or mirror proved that my hard work was already starting to pay off. I was looking slightly more like my older self; even my beard, which had been trying to come in by force since I was sixteen, was beginning to reappear. It was quite the radical but welcome change; I made careful use of the safety razor I'd been given to keep myself from going “fully Russian”, as I’d sometimes put it.

          It was during my fifth night that something absolutely strange took place, shaking the sense of normalcy right out of me.  


          The summer heat had brought lots of humidity with it, and with that, towering cumulus clouds, making way for thunderstorms.

          That night, I lay in my tent, watching the canvas rattle as heavy rain fell on the pioneer camp, forcing everyone into their cabins for the night. Other than the sound and smell of fresh rain, this wasn't much of a change; only once had I seen pioneers out in the night, gathered around a campfire. For summer camp, many of the pioneers seemed content with spending time indoors.

          Then again, with the amount of time I was spending with my nose buried in books at the library, I couldn't criticize anyone for their lack of adventure.

          With the lantern burning low, I dozed off, one of the intermediate-level books on Russian resting on my chest. Studying had indeed become my obsession; my notes were strewn everywhere, covered with test sentences that I'd scrawled with charcoal pencil. The sounds of the rain slapping against the tent was loud and constant in my ears as slumber overtook me.

          And then I heard a voice—gentle but clear, very close. It was incredibly soothing compared to the rain.

          “What are you doing?” the voice asked. It was young. Female. I didn't recognize it as anyone I'd come across yet.

          “ _Ya?_ ” I replied.

          “Yes, you. What are you doing all alone here?”

          She spoke in English, and it was very clean, even better than Zhenya's. I rolled over, my eyes partially opening to the dim light of the lantern. I couldn't see anything, yet...

          “I'm supposed to be here.” I mumbled.

          There was a slight pause, accompanied by a bit of furtive movement. “I see. I'm supposed to be here, too. All around here. I didn't think I'd find this. The fields here are nice and open, but this isn't supposed to be here.”

          I sighed. “No choice. I wasn't given one.”

          Paper crinkled—my notes. “You don't speak the language here?”

          “Bingo.”

          I heard several succinct sniffs; like an animal inspecting something unknown. “Why not? It's easy.” A hint of a mischievous smile seemed to accompany this statement.

          “So says you... who are you?” I asked tiredly.

          She didn't answer for a few seconds. “I’m me, of course.”

          “Sure... But... what is your name? What do I call you?”

          “I don't know,” she said apathetically. “You call me what you want, I suppose.”

          “I can't do that, it's rude.”

          The voice was silent again, and I heard more shuffling sounds coming from somewhere in the darkness. For some reason I wasn't alarmed at all by this presence; normally an unseen voice in the night would strike fear into a person's heart, make them want to protect themselves. I oddly wanted this voice and its source to come closer and stay.

          Well, of course I wouldn't mind! I was dreaming! _Right?_ “What are you after?” I asked.

          “Little things. I borrow things from time to time.”

          “Well… I don't have much.”

          I could feel someone close to me now, sitting just inches from the sleeping bag. Unlike others around the camp, whoever this was smelled a bit on the earthy side. I wouldn't say it was particularly unpleasant, but there was something particularly different about this one. I didn't want to open my eyes, and yet...

          “I can tell. You're not prepared for what's ahead,” she said with concern.

          “What's ahead?”

          No answer, again. Very slowly, I opened my eyes partway. My vision was probably paying tricks on me, but I could've sworn that there was a silhouette sitting in the darkness, partially blocking the light of the lamp. I could just barely make out distinct shapes, but if I had to guess, it had to be a girl, very compactly built. There seemed to be something different about her; the hair on her head seemed to rise and fall in a strange fashion.

          At least, that’s how it appeared. For some reason my brain simply wasn’t engaging like it should have; a person in my tent who could barely be seen by the eyes should have been alarming—terrifying, even. I still felt completely at ease!

          “How can Russian be easy?” I asked.

          She giggled. “Simple! You just do it. Like me. I understand what is said. I watch. I listen.”

          “It must be nice...”

          “I didn't know what the language here was called. Russian to English. English to Russian. _S angliyskovo na russkiy._ ” Another distinct giggle followed this.

          I closed my eyes again, listening to the sounds of my books being picked up and leafed through once more. Even the one on my chest seemed to lift away.

          “Are you here to help me?” I asked.

          No answer. Just the gentle flutter of pages being turned, one after the other.

          I felt immensely tired; tired in a dream. I decided to turn over and face the other direction, away from this new friend without a name. Drifting, I continued to listen; the rain became stronger.

          After some time, it was all I could hear. No more shuffling, no more giggling. Then I heard the voice one last time, clearly in my ear like the sweet nothings of a mischievous lover. It tickled my eardrum, it was so tender. “Be prepared.”

          I woke with a start, nearly jumping to my feet. I immediately reached for the lantern and advanced the wick, filling the tent with brilliant orange light.

          Except for my few possessions and myself, the tent was empty. My books were stacked very neatly next to the sleeping bag, along with my notes, which were rolled up like scrolls. In the corner, my satchel lay partly open.

          I burst forth from the tent, throwing the flap open with gusto. I immediately became drenched by rain, the storm still at its peak. Lightning struck in the distance, casting a ghostly glow on the trees around me and illuminating the cabins in the distance, making them vividly detailed like an ornate little Christmas village.

          As thunder filled my ears, I strained to see what was out in the darkness. Where had this mysterious person, this voice—this girl—gone to so fast?

          “Hello?” I called.

          There was no answer. The wind seemed to be the only response, blowing the rain sideways to soak me even further.

          “Who's out there?!” I called out again, irritated.

          In response, I heard the distinct sound of snapping. I couldn't identify just what it was; at least, not until my tent collapsed on itself. The supporting ropes, which were staked to the ground, had been cut.

          I charged forward, lantern in hand. “Who's out there, damn it?!?”

          From the bushes, I could just barely make out a shadow running away from the tent; a short figure, dressed in dark clothing. The figure moved with marked swiftness, disappearing into the night before I could get a good look.

          “ _Fuck it!”_ I screamed in frustration. I wanted to throw my lantern, but I knew that would be a grave mistake.

          With the rain continuing to pour down on me, I tried vainly to set the tent back in order. It wasn't easy, as the grassy clearing had given way to mud; although making the stakes easy to pull out and re-tie, my bare feet were sinking almost up to my knees.

          After accidentally kicking my lantern over and failing to find stable ground in which to reset the stakes, I decided to give up. There was no way I'd be able to get the tent standing again in this rain; not without a second set of hands.

 _Well, who'd take me in at this hour?”_ I thought, scooping up my lantern and heading north. I didn't really know anybody down here on the southern shore, so my only option was past the square.I knew where Zhenya and Slavya's cabin was, but would they really be willing to accept me this late at night? And what would Olga Dmitrievna say?

          The thought occurred that perhaps our camp leader would volunteer her own cabin; she lived alone in a quaint green hut that had a distinctive triangular shape, situated on the northern-most part of the camp. Then again, the thought of what Olga would do to me for waking her at such an hour—2 am—made me re-think my strategy.

          Deciding that it wouldn't be prudent to bother any of the girls, I made my way over to Shurik and Electronik's cabin; they'd invited me during one of my visits to the canteen, acting like they had something up their sleeve, which wasn't out of the ordinary. In any case, I wouldn't get myself into trouble for visiting them late at night.

          After a long run through camp, I banged heavily on their door, the sound of thunder crashing overhead.

 _“Stoy! Kto id'ot?”_ It was Shurik's voice. With his quick response and aggressive tone, I half-expected him to be readying a laser cannon to fire through the door.

 _Halt! Who goes there?_ I recognized his words almost as clear as English that time. My lessons were paying off. “It's Brion! Open up!” I replied.

          It was a good few seconds of standing in the rain before the door tentatively opened a crack. I recognized Electronik on the other side, eyeing me suspiciously.

          “Oh, it's you.” he said with a slightly disappointed note in his voice.

          “Of course it's me, who else? Let me in, would ya?”

          The door opened a bit wider, just barely allowing me to stumble inside.

          Lit by the dim glow of a single goose-neck lamp, the interior of the cabin was about what I'd expect from the two robotics freaks; posters of Soviet sci-fi movies covered the walls, and various contraptions were set up all around the room, dials glowing, while twin beds occupied opposing sides. It was somewhat orderly, but the small piles of clothes strewn about the floor gave evidence that this was definitely a cabin for two males.

          “What brings you here at a late hour?” asked Shurik, who stood surprised in boxers and a t-shirt. His glasses were nowhere to be seen.

          “My tent collapsed, and I have no way to get it back up in this rain.” I explained.

          Electronik chuckled. “Having problems getting up, eh?”

          Shurik shot him a disapproving glance. “Well yes, that would seem to be a rather infelicitous situation with the weather conditions,” he replied. I never realized just how wooden he was in his speech; it’d admittedly been days since we’d last spoken, but I digress. “You can surely board here for the night.”

          Electronik agreed, but I detected some apprehension in his tone. “Yes, that will be... fine.” He tipped backward into his bed, facing away from me and toward the wall.

          For what it was worth, it was damned good to get out of the rain. I cleared some rumpled clothes from a wooden chair in the corner, deciding that it would make at least a decent place to doze off until morning.

          “Electronik, our guest could use a blanket,” said Shurik with a slight hint of annoyance at his counterpart. He handed me an extra pillow.

          Grudgingly, Electronik tumbled out of bed, went to a cupboard and fished out a thick wool blanket, which he tossed unceremoniously at me.

          “Sorry to disturb you boys so late,” I said, trying to make sense of Electronik's less-than-sunny disposition. I would've figured Shurik to be the one who'd be slightly miffed at me, considering Electronik's usual happy-go-lucky attitude.

          At any rate, I was not in the mood to decipher anything; my experience with the unknown girl, along with my tent's collapse was enough to keep my mind occupied before I fell asleep—albeit uncomfortably— in the chair. All would be revealed soon enough.

 _Be prepared_ , she said. I could still hear her in my ear, so very close. I could even detect a smile as the words left her lips.

   
          After a light sleep, I woke to the sun's rays creeping through the window shades; from where I was sitting, I was in the perfect position to be hit right in the face by them. It was pleasantly golden in color, a direct contrast to the way my body felt; a wooden chair does not make a decent bed! Lesson learned.

          Glancing around the room, I noticed more and more just how cluttered the place really was. Every available surface had at least one obligatory piece of technology resting upon it. Whether anything worked was purely conjecture to me; they resembled works in progress, rather than finished devices.

          Also noticeable was Shurik's absence; his bed was neatly made, his uniform gone. The guy was a go-getter alright; from talks with Zhenya, he'd probably gone straight to the cybernetics clubroom to begin working. I rarely, if ever, saw him out and about.

          Electronik was still in bed, however. Apparently he didn't share the same enthusiasm for robotics as his mate; or at least, he didn't that morning, thanks to my late-night visitation.

          I stood up, stretching the pain from my muscles, thankful that I hadn't kinked my neck or anything serious from my odd slumber position. I supposed that this would be as good a time as any to get back to my tent and try to get it standing again. In only a matter of hours it would be time for breakfast, along with the lineup. I needed to at least have my uniform by then.

          After folding up the blanket and leaving it on the chair, I stepped outside, lantern in hand. The moist morning air had a distinct chill to it; all the rain had created a sort of fog, along with dew on every possible surface. The ground was still saturated with rain water, mud squishing beneath my bare toes as I made my way to the pavement.

          At that time in the morning, the square was deserted, but I had the sense that someone else was out there with me. Looking around didn't reveal much; maybe my experience the night prior had me hunting for ghosts. I could still hear that sweet voice in the back of my mind.

 _Sweet voice..._ It took me a moment, but in the distance, near the athletic field, I could see a figure running. The blonde hair was a dead giveaway. _Slavya._

          I contemplated going after her, but the feel of the ground under my bare feet was enough of a reminder; I was still dressed down. If I went jogging after Slavya in nothing but my boxers and t-shirt, things could go horribly wrong. Or horribly right, but that wasn’t a possibility I wanted to toy with.

          I decided against it. I could always find her later.

          Once I got to the tent, it took about forty-five minutes to get the structure standing again. The soft ground was still a hindrance, but I was able to find several large stones that I'd missed during the night. I used them to keep the stakes solidly in the ground, making a mental note that a better solution would have to be thought up. For now, things were fine.

          Upon inspection, all of my books, my notes and my satchel were surprisingly intact, but my uniform and sleeping bag were completely waterlogged thanks to the continuing downpour. Somehow I'd have to find a way of drying both.

          The sleeping bag was easy enough; I was able to stretch it out over the tent, letting the rays of the sun do their work. I figured that nobody would help themselves to it, but my uniform was something else; I’d most likely have to wash it and wear it damp; there was no way that I could go through the day without it.

          To the washing stands I went, carrying practically everything that I owned. While I made use of the taps, I noticed a peculiar thing: nearly all of my tooth powder had gone missing. Surely I hadn't used it all up, certainly not by the fifth day! I noticed small fingerprints all over the tin; incriminating evidence!

          But whose fingerprints were these? They were significantly smaller than mine, almost small enough to be mistaken for a child's!

          My mind immediately went to my night visitor. What could she possibly want with tooth powder? It was such an odd thing to go missing, but upon further inspection, it seemed to be the only thing that had been taken.

 _Maybe it wasn't her, but whoever knocked the tent down,_ I thought. That idea made even less sense to me. But then, who was to say that it wasn't the very same girl? She had all of the opportunity to do such a thing.

 _Be prepared,_ I remembered. It didn't sound sinister, not at all in the way she said it. I doubted that she'd tell me that before turning my living situation upside-down. If she had, well...

          _“Dobroye utro.”_

          Zhenya's voice came from over my shoulder. I'd been so preoccupied with my conjectures, I hadn't noticed her approach. She was holding a bundle with all of her washing supplies, already in uniform.

          “Hi. Good morning, I mean.” I replied.

          She nodded, taking a place next to me at the washing stands. “Ready for your exam today? I believe we discussed it.”

          “In brief detail, we did. And... well, if you insist. I can’t promise that I’ll be very good, though.”

          She smiled pleasantly. “You'll do fine.”

          Zhenya seemed to be in a very relaxed mood this morning; at one point she’d mentioned how much she loved rainy weather, so perhaps that was it. It looked like she'd get her wish again, as there were already clouds forming on the horizon, much like the previous day.

          While she brushed her teeth and attended to herself, I faced away and struggled to get into my uniform, which was no longer dripping, but still moist. I figured that the air and the sun would take care of that before long. My neckerchief looked rather pathetic, sagging and wrinkled.

          “Have a problem last night?” Zhenya asked.

          “As you can tell. Gotta hand it to Olga Dmitrievna; a tent in the rain, easy to sabotage...”

          She laughed. “I'd almost bet some rubles... it's one of the two troublemakers, or maybe both. They'd be responsible.”

          “Yeah?” I asked, trying to shake the empty arms of my shirt open so I could reach through.

          “They live very close to your tent. They could throw rocks at you from their porch.”

          I nodded, making a note to investigate further. Who else would go to the trouble of knocking down my tent at two in the morning? A couple of bored pioneers with a knack for wreaking havoc, that's who.

          I reached into my satchel and pulled out some of my notes. I figured that it would be good to review before Zhenya's supposed exam, which I imagined would take place right after breakfast.

          Upon reading one rolled-up page, I quickly noticed something wrong: Instead of cohesive writing on the subject of English to Russian, there were strange runish marks all over the page. It were as though the marks I'd made had shifted, rearranging themselves. I couldn't make any sense of what they meant or how my writing got that way.

 _Are they all like this?_ I wondered. I unrolled another sheet, then another, inspecting each one carefully. Indeed, every single one had changed, no longer forming any recognizable language, but obviously meaning something. I couldn't see any of it as gibberish, and yet...

          “Have you been scribbling in your sleep?” Zhenya scolded.

          I looked up at her briefly; her shirt was down, partially exposing her pink bra, making her jump at my gaze. “I... maybe. I don't know.”

          She groaned unpleasantly. “You're not going to learn anything at this rate. How could you do that to your notes?”

          I looked once more at the strange pages. “Good... question.” My voice trailed off as I studied the characters. What could I possibly make of these? My visitor had been messing with my papers, that part I remembered vividly... but why?

          After a few minutes, Zhenya waved her hands in front of me, invading my line of sight. I was fixated on the pages, flipping them over again and again. “Earth to Brion. Come. To. Lineup.” She made a point of enunciating every word.

          “Be right there,” I replied vaguely. I simply couldn’t stop looking at the strange symbols. It were as though they had some sort of hold on me, beckoning to me to keep reading, absorbing… but absorbing what?

          “Suit yourself,” she said, sounding a bit dejected as she picked up her bundle and walked away.

          I wasn’t sure how much time I spent staring at the notes, but after a while, the sound of the Soviet anthem playing over the loudspeakers made me snap to attention. “ _Bliat'!”_ I exclaimed. I was completely missing the lineup!

          At first I broke into a run, but then thought the better of it. What good would the lineup be now? They had to be nearing the end if the anthem was being played, and the square was a good distance away.

 _Oh well,_ I figured, _they’ll just have to do without me this time._

          After some more studious staring at the notes, I finally folded them back up and shoved them into my satchel. I could ponder them later, once I was done with breakfast, the exam and whatever other activities were in store. My stomach rumbled angrily at the thought of finally getting some sustenance, so I leisurely made my way over to the canteen to find something to eat.

          The canteen was packed as usual, and unfortunately there was no way for Zhenya and me to sit together, so we agreed to meet sometime afterward. In a way, I was glad to put it off; not that I was that unsure in my abilities, but I'd loathed taking exams for as long as I could remember.

          Besides, I was sure that immediately following, I'd be plunged into yet another day of intense study, which was inevitably wearing down my patience after four days straight. A break would be much appreciated.

          As I finished a rather light breakfast—eggs and toast with hot black tea – a familiar fire-haired young gal plunged into the seat opposite me, which had just been vacated. With a youthful, slightly freckled face, she grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat. Like everyone else, she sported a Pioneer's uniform, rather than a Metallica t-shirt.

          “Hi, stupid!” she said in greeting.

 _Wow, what a charmer,_ I thought. “You know... it's not polite to speak to people that way.” I crunched the last of my toast with disdain.

          She put her hands on her cheeks in a brilliant display of sarcastic surprise. “You can speak? Highest of wonders! Did you finally pass preschool?”

          I was stricken for a moment: I was speaking completely in Russian to this girl, and she was doing the same to me; yet, I could understand her as plain as regular English! It were as though a veil had been lifted, and now I was some sort of expert.

          “Well? Speak up, dummy!” she asked as I realized this last bit of information.

          I already didn’t like this girl, but there was something irresistibly cute about her impudence. “Yes. Let me know when you do too, I'll give you a sticker,” I replied in a snarky manner.

          She winked. “I _love_ stickers! So did you enjoy my work the other day?”

          “Oh yeah, that was brilliant. How could I possibly forget getting creamed for your benefit?”

          She giggled—a deep tone from back in her throat. “ _Heee!_ It was all worth it in the end. I still have at least half the bag, too!”

          “And Olga Dmitrievna hasn't murdered you yet?”

          She shook her head, bouncing in her chair—she was sitting on her knees, rather than actually in the seat—and still grinning. “Nope! She's even said hello to me every day! It's like she forgot, or something!”

          It was very odd indeed. Ever since the incident, our camp leader had been oddly quiet about the matter. She hadn't even asked how I was doing; no further apologies, no explanations, not even an inquiry on my nose. It was business as usual, as far as she and everyone else seemed to be concerned.

          Ulyana rested her chin on two closed fists, imitating the look of a starry-eyed teen girl—which she was, in a way. “So what are you doing now? Ready to help me with another daring mission?”

          I coughed; tea went down the wrong pipe. “Help you? What makes you think I want to help you with anything? Besides, I never helped you in the first place; you just made me your fall-guy.”

          She tilted her head in confusion. “Really? What's that?”

          “What?”

          “A fall-guy. What's that?”

          It occurred to me that I was probably using a term unknown to Russian ears. “It's when you do something bad, and you find someone else to take the punishment for you.”

          “Oh!” she said, a light bulb suddenly flickering on in her brain. “You mean a scapegoat, silly!”

          “It's the same thing!”

          She clapped her hands excitedly. “ _Hehe!_ Okay then, wanna be my scapegoat again?”

          “I didn't want to be in the first place! And frankly...” I took a quick glance around, noting the deflated amount of other pioneers before grabbing Ulyana by the neckerchief and collar, yanking her forward until her grinning face was close enough for me to count the freckles under her eyes. “You owe me. Understand?”

          She didn't seem fazed at all by my aggression. “Easy! I'll hook you up with some of the loot! I can't eat it all by myself!”

          I stopped to think of just what I would do to this girl if she didn't offer candy; honestly, what was there? Would I give her the freshman treatment and drop her head-first into a trashcan? Noogies? Wedgies? Swirlies?

          That last one would be a disaster, considering what kind of toilets they had here, but I digress.

          In the end, candy would have to do. It would likely come in handy for the inevitable empty-stomach nights. Besides, I was never much of a bully in my younger days; I was usually on the receiving end of insults and stupid pranks up until high school. I let go of her neckerchief. “Deal.”

          Ulyana stuck her tongue out at me. “You sure don’t act like an ambassador!”

          “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly treat me like one, either.”

          She beamed. “You’re right! I don’t!” she seemed oddly proud of this fact.

          “Okay… so where are you keeping the loot?”

          She looked at me as though I'd asked what color the sky was. “Secret stash! Where else?”

          “Look, kid. If the 'secret stash' is your pillowcase, I'm going to be sorely disappointed.”

          “That's amateur stuff!” She scoffed. “Come to my cabin, you'll see!”

          Did I really want to see where this little monster laid her head every night? For all I knew, the place was booby-trapped, ready for an unwitting visitor like myself to come wandering in.

          Still, the morning was young, and I was looking for excuses to put off the exam. “Let's go.” I volunteered.

          I followed Ulyana out of the canteen and across the square, down to the cabins on the southern shoreline. As we crunched down the path, I could easily make out the olive-drab outline of my tent, which was popping from the bushes like a hobo fort, my blue sleeping bag draped over the top.

          She pointed. “Is that _your_ ugly tent?” she asked.

          I rolled my eyes, replying sarcastically. “Actually, no. That's Oscar The Grouch's tent.”

          “Who's Oscar The Grouch?” She looked confused and somewhat annoyed at me.

 _Sesame Street_ must not have been popular or even known in Soviet Russia. Either that, or they had a strange clone of it. “Never mind. It's an American thing.”

          “Oh, that’s right! You _are_ American, aren’t you?” she laughed.

          I pointed to the flag on my lapel, in direct contrast to her red-flaming Lenin pin. Ulyana stared at it, then winked. “No wonder you’re so dumb!”

          I nearly swallowed my tongue. “You’re quite the disrespectful little pipsqueak, aren’t you? You don’t care at all that I’m a visitor from another country?”

          She placed her hands proudly on her waist. “Nope! You wear the uniform, you’re one of us, that’s what I say!”

          “Wow. That’s some air-tight logic there,” I said sarcastically. “Well, you know what? I know Algebra! How's _that_ for dumb?” I countered.

          This was met with a triumphant laugh. “I already know calculus! You _are_ dumb, stupid!”

          She had me there. Math was never a favorite subject of mine, and I'd never been forced to do much more than Algebra, even through college. Meanwhile, this young Soviet girl could run circles around me, both literally and with advanced math. It was pretty pathetic.

          “Fine, you've got me. But stop calling me 'stupid', kid.”

          “Then stop being stupid, idiot!” she stuck her tongue out, satisfied to be the victor. “And quit calling me ‘kid’!”

          With her acting so much like one, there was no reason to call her otherwise! But alas, the sun was beating down on the both of us, so we quickened our pace to her cabin.

  
          At last, we arrived. Ulyana’s place of residence was a tall, barn-shaped hut that was rather distinct with its angular shape and plain, wooden finish. Its tin roof had a few rust spots – like that stupid “Love Shack” song.

          Up the steps, we were greeted by windowed double-doors, a Jolly Roger hanging in one of them. Somehow it fit her; she was much like the resident pirate, plundering anything that she could.

          “How’d you swing this?” I asked. “This is huge.”

          She grinned smugly. “Lucky, I guess!”

          The interior of the cabin looked pretty well lived-in; not necessarily trashed, but there was a calculated disorder that went with the placement of items on every surface. _How many summers did this take to accomplish?_ I wondered. Many of these pioneers were repeat visitors, so cabins like these were like home away from home.

          There were two beds, one on each side of the room, and a table in the middle, near the window. There were posters of rock & roll bands, sports teams, a model of a Soviet main battle tank... it looked more like a room for boys instead of girls. The only thing really ruining that image was the random girls’ clothing articles lying about and the faint smell of hairspray.

          A sleeping form on one bed caught my attention. This form rolled over underneath the sheets, facing toward the wall. I caught the sight of strawberry-blonde hair, tanned skin...

_Heart-shaped barrettes on the nightstand._

          “Is that...” I began to ask.

          “ _Shhh! She's sleeping!”_ Ulyana hissed. The smile on her face made me believe that she wasn't completely against making noise and getting the both of us decimated—it'd most likely be me who’d get killed, from earlier intimations.

          Now I knew what the score was. More importantly, I knew _where_ I was. I was deep in enemy territory, and for what? Stolen candy.

 _Damn it, Brion, you did it again..._ I thought, trying my best not to make a move. I didn't want to risk stepping on a squeaky floorboard or having a cliché anime moment where I suddenly tripped, fell, and landed in Alisa's breasts.

          While my imagination dwelled on that last bit, Ulyana tiptoed over near her bed, then turned to me. “Hey, don't look!”

          “Fine,” I mouthed silently, turning back toward the door.

          Although conniving, she wasn't at the height of cleverness; in the reflection of the glass in the door, I could see Ulyana almost perfectly. She knelt down, grabbed hold of one of the floorboards and pulled, forcing one of the planks out of place. It was actually a pretty decent stash, come to think of it. Reaching down, she found what she was looking for and put the plank back into its home. “Okay... _Lovi!”_ she whispered.

 _Lovi—_ Catch. I turned just in time to prevent the half-empty bag from beaning me in the head. “Hey! What are you—”

          “ _Shhh!”_

          I shushed, studying the transparent plastic bag. Ulyana had really gone through half of this already? There had to be at least half a pound left! “You know what?” I showed her the bag, holding it up. “I'm keeping all of this. Consider it Brat Tax.”

          She looked visibly offended. “Hey, I didn't say you could have it all! I worked hard for that!”

          “Yeah, and who took the damage?”

          Ulyana fidgeted fussily. “That's still not fair!”

          There was more stirring under Alisa's sheets. It probably wasn't best to have this conversation here. “Outside.” I said.

          “You take that and I'll scream!” she declared, putting her hands to her cheeks like the kid from _Home Alone_.

          My eyes went wide. “Don't you dare!”

          “All's fair in love and war!” She proudly put her hands on her hips while saying this.

          “Are we at war?”

          “We _will_ be if you take all that candy!”

          I rolled my eyes, trying with all my might to move things forward. “Fine, but let's go outside!”

          A cough came from Alisa's direction. “Go away...” she grumbled.

          I needed no further warning. I quickly opened the door and stumbled out into the hot summer sun, nearly falling from the porch steps. Ulyana was quick to follow me, intent on making sure that I didn't steal all of her hard-earned bounty. She closed the door and caught air from the porch, motioning for me to follow her under the trees, where we could conduct the shady business at hand.

          “Okay, let's see what you got here,” I said, surveying the goods. There was actually quite the variety of Russian candies in the bag. None of them were very recognizable by name, but there were plenty of strange shapes to choose from, along with some obvious wrapped hard candies that would survive nuclear holocaust. I was impressed. “Where did you get this?”

          “From the kitchen! I tried to get it last year, but some stupid jerk wouldn't let me!”

          “Who, Olga Dmitrievna? You expected different?”

          She shook her head. “No, not her! Some... Pioneer guy! He tackled me in the woods!”

          “Tackled you, huh? Must've been a hell of a runner to catch you.”

          “He was a lazy bum! And maybe he didn't catch me. Maybe I _wanted_ him to catch me, get it?” she replied with a wink.

          I cocked an eyebrow upward. “Really?”

          She detected my sarcasm. “You think I don't have charms? I'm almost fifteen, you know!” With that she took a pose, puffing out her chest and arching her back, flattering the shape of her hips. She even batted her eyes at me, long lashes glimmering.  
   
          Despite her attempts, her diminutive size and tomboyish way of conducting herself still made me place Ulyana more around age twelve. She did possess key feminine traits, but there obviously was still a ways to go for her. Maybe she was just a late bloomer; who could really say?

          I reached into the bag, rooting around. “So, what happened after you let Loverboy catch you? Things I shouldn't know about?”

          She laughed. “Like I'd tell you! You're too stupid to understand!”

          “We're outside,” I reminded her, “And I think Olga Dmitrievna would be glad to have these back in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll clue her in on where your stash is.”

          An annoyed look came my way. “Geez, fine! We didn't do anything.”

_“Suuuure...”_

          She stomped her foot on the ground. “We didn't! But… he _was_ cute. I would’ve married the guy if I was old enough!”

          I couldn't help but to put one hand on my cheek. _“D'aaaaw!”_

          She rewarded my reaction with a swift kick to the shin. I almost dropped the bag. “Damn! Okay, sorry.” Even at her size, she sure packed a wallop.

I finally extracted a couple of heaping handfuls and dropped them into the satchel. “Alright, fair's fair.” I handed the bag back to her.

          Ulyana seemed pleased. “You're officially in the business now! There's no turning back.” She said with a wink.

          Somehow it was easy to picture her as the future head of a _Mafiya_ syndicate. It would be a rather smooth transition for her. “Yep, I'm definitely in deep now, so it would seem,” I agreed.

          “So what's next?” she asked curiously.

          “Next? I'm getting the hell out of here before your roommate wakes up!”

          She gasped. “Why, what's the matter? You don't _like_ Alisa?”

          I shook my head, taking a step away. “I think you've got that backward. I have no problem with Alisa, but she obviously doesn't like me. I'm not even sure if _you_ like me _._ ”

          Ulyana's face broke into a mischievous grin. “That's not true! She likes you! She says nothing but positive things when she sees you! And... I think you're okay! A bit of a butt, but you're okay!” She concluded by sticking her tongue out at me.

          Nothing in this girl’s tone bore any semblance of truth. “Kid, seriously, don't lie. I know an angry woman when I see one.”

          She shook her head, her voice taking on an annoyingly bratty tone. “ _Nuh-uh!!!_ She totally _does_ like you! I know it!”

          “Plotting a war and liking someone can be similar, but...” I stopped, realizing just how long this discussion was taking. Second after second was passing, putting me in further danger. “Look, I'm not going to talk about it anymore. I've got to get scarce...”

          Too late. The door flew open, nearly banging itself off of its hinges. As though she'd been summoned by ritual prayer, Alisa stepped out onto the porch, glaring at me. “What are _you_ doing here?” she growled, as though she'd forgotten my presence inside not a few minutes before.


	7. Double Trouble pt. 2

          I held my tongue; first because I didn't feel a need to answer; second, I had a bit of a scheme cooking in my brain.

          Ulyana piped up, proudly placing her hands on her hips. “He's my new partner in crime!”

          I picked that moment to go back to speaking English. “Hey wait, no! That's not it at all!”

          Alisa laughed condescendingly, smiling at her minion. “Some partner. He can't even speak Russian.”

          “Yes he can! He's still dumb, but he speaks Russian!” Ulyana insisted, shaking her head.

          _“Whaa?”_ I asked, playing the “dumb” role out. I did my best to sound like a total gomer. “I don't know Russian!”

          Ulyana shook her fists, looking like she was going to pop a gasket. “Stop that! Stop talking like a dummy!”

          Alisa descended the steps, confronting me head-on. I had to admit, while being so mean-spirited and looking as though I’d interrupted her sweet slumber, she shared a common feature with many of the girls in this camp: she was very easy on the eyes—“hot” surely being the fitting term. She was neither short nor tall, with a toned, muscular, healthy build.

          The way that she wore her uniform—shirt tied in a knot, baring her midriff and a decent amount of cleavage; neckerchief around her wrist—was rather alluring. She had all the attitude of the classic rebellious high-school girl. All she needed was the leather jacket-wearing boyfriend with the ridiculous hairdo and motorcycle.

          “So, Mister Ambassador,” she mused – so much for Zhenya being the only user of that title – “You still don't know a word I'm saying to you.” She seemed rather pleased, like a cat toying with its prey before going in for the kill. Her gait slowed, more of a swing emitting her from hips as she walked toward me. “You spend a lot of time in that library, though… pity.”

          “Uh... what?” I asked.

          She giggled from her throat—much like Ulyana—stopping at arm’s length from me. “I almost feel bad for you. I still want to kick your ass, but you wouldn't know why.”

          “Oh, I think I know why.” I continued to speak in English. Two could play at this game; she couldn't understand _me_ , either!

          My answer went right over her head. “What should we do with him, Ulyana?” she asked her younger counterpart.

          “Oh, you mean what we should do with him for being dumb?” Ulyana replied, grinning.

          “No!” Alisa sounded a bit irritated. “For putting his hands all over me!”

          Was that it? _Really?_ All because I'd touched her that first morning? This girl was far too sensitive! And it wasn't even all over her—although now that I was accused of such, I wish I had! One: for justice. Second: because her cleavage was practically calling to me now.

          Ulyana thought for a moment. “We could knock his tent down again!”

 _I knew it!_ I wanted to react, but the gig would have been up if I did. So these two _did_ have something to do with last night!

          Alisa shook her head. “No, that's not good enough. We should have him roll around in all that poison oak that we found.”

          Looking visibly shocked, Ulyana's eyes went wide. “ _Whaaa?_ No, that's way too much! He'll be covered in sores and blisters!”

          “Sounds fun.” She smiled devilishly and adopted a seductive air, moving slowly and smoothly, tentatively biting her bottom lip. She forced the satchel I was carrying out of my hands, sending it to the ground. “What do you say, big boy?”

          While she toyed with the knot holding her shirt together, I simply nodded. Her plan would've been flawless, had I not known at all what she was saying.

          After waiting coyly for a response, she decided to take matters into her own hands; she gingerly grabbed my wrist and led me away from the cabins, beginning a journey to the west.

          We walked for a good ten minutes or so, entering thick woods, with Ulyana following us closely.

          “Where are we going?” I asked, looking back at her.

          “Stop being stupid and speak in Russian already!” she replied with annoyance. Obviously, English wasn't her cup of tea either.

          I refused. “What good would that do me now? I'm already in deep shit.”

          “Quiet, prisoner!” barked Alisa, still oblivious.

          The trail through the woods became inclined and proved a bit difficult to traverse; nothing above what I’d experienced a couple mornings ago. We were far away from the camp now; the familiar sounds of children running about could no longer be heard, replaced by the skittering of little woodland creatures and birds in the trees.

          My mind took a quick recess – none of us were talking at the moment – and I began to wonder just what I was going to do. It’d be naïve to assume that I wasn’t in some sort of danger on account of Alisa, but would running away again really help me? Now that I thought about it, it was my running that got me into trouble in the first place.

          Even if running were a viable option, I couldn’t say that hormones weren’t getting the best of me; as she pulled me along behind her, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Alisa, whose rather shapely blue-skirted rear-end was practically begging me to reach out and greet it, as much as it would likely result in my gruesome death.

          Eventually, we stopped. We were looking down a steep embankment into a thick gully, even with the tops of some of the trees. Down at the bottom I recognized large patches of poison oak, just like I'd seen in books as a kid. Also interspersed were thick bushes with jagged suckers; briers and nettles. This was not the place to play around.

          Alisa turned to me, stopping me with a hand on my chest. “Here we are. Ready for justice, big boy?”

          I looked down at the gully again, knowing that the time would soon come where I'd have to enact an actual plan against this obviously hostile and somewhat twisted girl. Acting dumb was not doing me many favors, but at this point in time things were still equal opportunity.

          "Wait! Alisa, don't do it!” Ulyana pleaded. It was a very strange tone to hear from her. “You're really going to hurt him!”

          Alisa didn't seem to be swayed at all by her cohort's passionate plea.  “He'll be fine. Just very, very itchy, if he's a lucky one.” She stroked my chin with her thumb and index finger alluringly. “Won't you? Won't you itch like crazy for me?”

          The way she said it was inversely proportional to what she meant. I had to admit, I liked her style, even though I was on the receiving end of it all.

          She got very close, putting her hands over my shoulders like we were dancing. I stared into her eyes, could smell her sweet perfume... My hormones were actually starting to convince me that falling into endless amounts of poisonous plants would be worth it if I could get very, very close to her.

           “Are you ready?” she asked, face moving closer and closer to mine.

           My arms went around her in a gentle embrace, and I put my hand at the back of her neck, smiling. This time, I spoke in plain Russian. “ _Ya byl gotov_.” – _I’ve been ready._

           Alisa's eyes suddenly narrowed, and her body froze in place. “What?”

           I continued to smile, continuing on. “There are better ways to get close to me, you know!”

          Alisa's look of surprise turned to that of rage, and she quickly shifted her weight to press against me. “You... _you!”_ she growled, doing her best to shove me.

          I pushed back, struggling against her. My recent building of muscle was a help, but I was still having trouble; Alisa was a strong young woman, almost like Olga Dmitrievna. It was obvious that she had more than heavy words going for her; she could really whoop someone if given the chance.

          “You're gonna get it!” she said, trying to break my arms free from her.

          “You first!”

          Ulyana shrieked. “No! Stop it, you guys!”

          Alisa continued to wrestle with me, ignoring Ulyana's cry. She breathed fiercely through her teeth, right in my face; _gah, morning breath!_ I could see the blood flowing to her cheeks as she tried harder and harder to knock me off-balance. Luckily I had just enough body mass to counteract her movements, but our struggle was getting more intense with every second.

          Finally, in a daring move, Alisa pulled back and head-butted me in the nose.

          The pain was exquisite; I guess I hadn't healed fully over the week. My vision went red and wobbly, like I was suffering a case of vertigo on steroids. I couldn't believe that she'd go so far!

          “Fall... Down!” growled Alisa, shoving me with all of her might.

          Disoriented and in pain, I did fall. However, I managed to grab hold of Alisa's neckerchief, which was still attached to her wrist. I took her with me, and we began a treacherous, dirty trip down the steep, grassy slope. I was able to catch hold of a rock, which was buried a good bit into the dirt.

          However, Alisa slid away from me. The only thing saving her from a continued journey into the poison ivy patch was my death grip on her neckerchief. I held onto it tightly. “ _Enough!”_ I shouted. “Enough of this crap!”

          She yelped, sprawling on her back, the soft dirt underneath her easily giving way and cascading to the bottom. “Don't let me go!” she pleaded.

          “Promise you'll stop!”

          “What? No!”

          I let her go. However, the change in weight caused me to lose my grip on the rock, sliding down with her once more. We tumbled, rolling in the dirt, gravity doing its work.

          Somehow, fate ordained that instead of making a complete trip into the hell pit below, I would bounce and land on top of her, effectively stopping us from sliding any further.

          Now we were staring each other straight in the face, my hands firmly gripping her arms. She seemed to struggle underneath me for a second, gritting her teeth. Her eyes were full of rage; or at least, something close to it. Her motions quickly ceased, and she lay still underneath me.

          “ _Now?_ Are you going to stop?” I growled.

          She looked side to side, uncomfortably. “Fine… I'll stop, just... please… Get off me, at least...”

          The wet grass, combined with loose soil proved to be a challenge, but through sheer determination I managed to stand up. I then reached down to Alisa, pulling her up by both hands. We stood unstably, Alisa's back toward the patch of poison oak, facing toward me. With both of her wrists still in my hands, I looked her in the face once more. “It's over, got that? We are _not_ doing this again.”

          “Fine!” she insisted, a slight hint of shame sweeping across her face.

          I looked back up the hill, at Ulyana, who stood motionless and speechless. It was the right reaction, I suppose; what could she do for us? I doubted that she could do much better on this slope than we were.

          With a bit of difficulty, I held Alisa by one hand and traversed the steep slope in a parallel line, making things a bit easier for the both of us. Before long we were back on the path we'd come on originally, with Ulyana padding along to meet us.

          “Now,” I said, releasing her, “I'm sorry for touching you, okay?”

          I could have predicted what happened next, seeing as how this existence was like playing a video game on Nightmare mode; things just weren't going to go my way, not without an insane amount of conflict.

          With motion faster than could be seen by human eyes, Alisa hauled off and slapped me. _Hard_. It almost felt like she'd punched me, but this had a sizzling bite to it that made my skin go numb. The sound echoed through the woods, probably loud enough for the pioneers back at camp to hear.

          While I held my stinging cheek, popping my jaw back into place, she gave a final huff and stomped away, brushing dirt from her uniform before disappearing into the trees. Obviously, she wasn't going to have anything to do with me for a while.

          Ulyana arrived next to me, not saying anything. I was expecting her to start poking fun at what just happened to me, but she kept her silence, being a good girl for once.

          It wasn't until I realized that I was bleeding from the nose again that she went back to her usual self. “...And justice is served!” she said proudly. It were as though she was a television that had been taken off of “mute”.

          “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” I complained, searching for something to stop the copious flow of blood. I figured my nice red neckerchief would have to do; it would be hard to notice blood on red. I began to pull it off, but Ulyana stopped me.

          “Here!” She handed me a small roll of gauze.

          “What do you have this for?” I asked, tearing off a couple of small squares and rolling both into balls small enough to plug my nose with.

          She put her hands on her hips again; it was becoming a trademark pose. “Always ready! It's the Pioneer way!”

          Come to think of it, Ulyana probably got roughed-up quite often; she had gauze wrapped around one knee to confirm this. Whatever the case, I was happy to have the help. Once I was done, I handed the roll back to her.

          “See? We make great partners!” she exclaimed happily.

          “Nod really...” I responded, sounding like a loon again thanks to my nose. Couple that with speaking Russian and I sounded completely ridiculous, at least to my ears.

          “Sure we do! But why were you lying earlier?” she asked. “Why didn’t you just talk to her in Russian? She probably would’ve forgiven you if you just tried!”

          “Mebbe… but I figgered... Alisa would radda fight, I jus’ didn' wanna to do at camp. I wouldn'a had any advantig other than to run again.”

          Ulyana laughed with her body; a hardy, girlish giggle. “You sound even dumber than usual!”

 _God, I can't take any more of this little brat!_ I thought.

 

          We headed back to the camp. The entire way, I pinched the bridge of my nose, just as the nurse had directed me; I hoped that Alisa hadn’t actually broken it this time.

          “That was intense,” I said to Ulyana, doing my best to concentrate on my pronunciation.

          “I didn’t think you two would fight like that,” she admitted. “I tried to stop it.”

          I met this with a shrug. “Nothing you could’ve done, to tell the truth. You could’ve gotten hurt in the process.”

          She laughed. “So you care about me now?”

          “What? No, not like that…”

          The girl proceeded to tease me; apparently my being injured was no reason for her to stop having fun. She pranced playfully in front of me as I walked. “You don’t care about me? You horrible boy… I thought we had something special!”

          Her laughter at the end of her sentence betrayed any sense of sincerity. “Well, it’s only our first hour or so of knowing each other, and I still don’t know where you stand, so I think my judgment is fair.”

          “Stand?” she stopped walking for a moment. “I stand on ground! Where do you stand?”

          “Funny.” I continued to walk. “I meant in general; you’re a little trickster. I’d prefer to be immune to your little games and such.”

          She giggled. “Nobody’s immune! It’s how I am! Either you love it or hate it.”

          “Interesting philosophy of life,” I admitted.

          We finally reached more recognizable territory; the south shore. Much to Ulyana's protest, I decided to go off on my own for a bit. I could only imagine what other shenanigans she had in store for the morning; whatever they were, she could count me out.

          After scooping up my satchel, I decided to go get cleaned up; my uniform had become rather grungy from rolling around in the dirt with Alisa. After all this drama, the last thing I needed was to get scolded by Olga Dmitrievna for not keeping care of myself.

          I made my way back to the washing stands. While I rinsed my dirt-caked shirt under the taps, I thought back on all that had just happened. At least I'd made some sort of friend in Ulyana, but her roommate... if she didn't have it out for me in the beginning, she surely did now.  
   
        Something else came to mind that hadn't been brought up in a while: what was all of this? Being here in this camp, rolling around with pioneers… was any of this leading toward something important? Was there a reason why I'd shown up at this particular place and time, or was this simply some strange occurrence without rhyme or reason?  
   
        What about my past life? The things I knew... my family, my job, my fledgling band, all the things that made me who I was... was it all lost? Would there be any return to that life?  
   
        Would I ever see those things again?  
   
        I pondered this for a while, knowing fully well that my shirt was back to being drenched. Not that I cared; it was getting exceedingly hot out, so it wouldn't be that way for long. I squeezed the water out as best I could and threw it back on, along with the neckerchief. I then began to scrub away at my pants, which thankfully were resistant to stains; the wonders of poly-blend.  
   
        I finally ran some water to my nose, which thankfully had stopped bleeding. I couldn't believe that Alisa had head-butted me; it was that or the slap, or both, that caused this. At this point in time, all of those events seemed surreal.  
   
        Once I was done, I heard feet crunching on gravel, coming toward the washing stands. From the path, I saw the trim figure of Electronik approaching, somewhat apprehensive in his gait.  
   
        “Good morning, my friend,” I greeted him.  
   
        For once, Electronik looked a bit lost. It wasn't really like him; ever since the previous night, he'd been acting strangely. I had simply chalked it up to him being frustrated at me for banging on his cabin door so late. “Hello... Zhenya isn't with you?” he asked nervously.  
   
        I shook my head. “She's probably at the library. Waiting on me.”  
   
        He looked visibly dejected. “Waiting on you, huh? Well...”  
   
        “What's up?”  
   
        “Nothing.” He scratched the back of his neck, failing at not looking nervous. “I just wanted to speak with her, is all.”  
   
        When it came to being around Zhenya, Electronik's behavior was erratic and peculiar, to put it lightly. Her behavior didn't go unnoticed, either. “You two have something going on?” I asked.  
   
         He looked at me with confusion. “Going on?”

          “You know what I mean.”

          He became defensive, waving his hands around in a boisterous fashion. “No! Not at all! Why would you say that? You're quite obviously mistaken!”  
   
          Man, did I really want to get involved in more personal drama? Well... perhaps. “Look, level with me. I see the way you two act around each other. It's pretty obvious,” I said, crossing my arms.  
   
          He sighed, giving in rather easily. “Yeah, you're right. It's just that, well... I know you two are seeing each other. She's been with you all week, and she seems very happy. I've never seen her like that, and...” His eyes bounced along the ground as his words trailed off.  
   
        “Nothing's happening between the two of us,” I assured him. “She's teaching me how to speak Russian, and we've become good friends; that much I'll admit to. Other than that, I’m not sure why you think there’s something else there.”  
   
        He seemed a bit more encouraged, but just barely. “Zhenya has never acted this way in the time that I’ve known her. There’s surely something there! Maybe you just don’t see it.”

          “Granted, girls usually say I’m oblivious to their feelings. But if that’s the case, is there really anything for you to worry about? What if she _does_ like me? It’s not exactly a mutual feeling.”

          He looked at me curiously. “Why’s that? You don’t think she’s ugly or something, do you?”

          “Ugly? That’s a little blunt, isn’t it? She isn’t ugly in the slightest… what kind of question is that?” I tried to turn the water off, but like most of the other faucets, this one was broken; the handle just popped repeatedly in its place.

          His eyes went a bit wide; perhaps at my reaction, or perhaps at what he himself had said. “I just want to know. She’s… I really like her, but she doesn’t feel the same way, at all. Meanwhile she seems to like you, and you don’t like her back.”

          “Welcome to the real world, I suppose.” It felt very odd to say something like that, considering how I felt just being in this camp. “Look, this isn’t really getting us anywhere. I don’t know what to tell you. Have you actually tried talking to her and seeing how _she_ feels? Have you tried to take her out?”

          “Of course!” he looked at me like I’d asked one of the dumbest questions on Earth. “And she practically tried to kill me!”

          I laughed; it didn’t matter to me that he looked embarrassed at that moment. “That sure does sound like her. Maybe she thinks you’re only after one thing. I know that girls hate that. I’m sure if you let her know a bit more about who you are, she wouldn’t be so abrasive toward you.”  
   
          He shook his head. “You make it sound easy... but it's not.” He sounded more and more depressed.

          I shrugged. “You don’t seem to have a problem talking with people. Perhaps when it comes to her, you just overthink things and treat her differently. That’s another thing that girls hate.”

          He shook his head again; not in disagreement, but in frustration. He ran his hands under the tap and splashed water in his face. “Girls are infinitely confusing.”

          I smiled and gave him a good-natured slap on the arm. “But too fun to give up on, right?”

          He laughed then, his naturally sunny attitude seeming to return. “I suppose you would be right, Brion. So what should I do? Just talk to her?”

          “Pretty much, yeah. Just be polite and talk about something you both can agree on, and don’t make it seem like you’re trying to get under her skirt.”

          Apparently what I said was a bit too blunt for Electronik; his expression almost immediately changed to one of shock, a bit of rage in his eyes. “I would never… you don't understand, do you? Nobody is like Zhenya! She's intelligent! Articulate! An absolute work of art crafted in flesh! I... I adore her. But I would never just want to get under her skirt, or whatever you would call it!”  
   
        There was no mistaking it now. Electronik Cheesekov was completely head-over-heels for the short librarian. I urged him to keep his voice down. “Hey, I didn’t _say_ that. I’m _saying_ that’s what girls usually think of guys, whether or not they have a reason to believe it. If you’ve been making overtures to her since day one, I’m sure that’s _exactly_ what she’s been thinking: that you’re some sort of pervert.”  
   
        He seemed confused. “But shouldn’t a man of character tell his woman exactly what he feels for her?”  
   
        While attempting to sound gallant in his declaration, it was quite obvious that Electronik was even worse at being a ladies’ man than me. “No… that’s suicide.” I was starting to get a headache from this discussion.

   
        He sighed again, waving his hands dismissively. “It's probably not even worth thinking about. Besides, Shurik needs my help right now. We're so close to finishing our robot! At the end of the last session, I could taste victory! You... you still haven't seen it, have you? And now would be the perfect time…”  
   
        _Uh-oh._ I knew where this was leading. “Well, as I said, Zhenya is waiting…”

          “She can wait longer!” Electronik seemed completely and rather abruptly shifted from his previous topic of focus. “Come check out our laboratory! I promise it won’t be nearly as confusing as girls!”

          I bit my lip. “That doesn’t exactly excite me…”  
   
          Being that I had no suitable excuses, I had no choice but to follow Electronik to the main clubhouse. It was one of the first buildings on the way into camp. It was on the spacious side, and much like the others it was made of white brick, shrouded by thick trees and foliage, and topped with thick wood shingles. It was showing its age, yet surprisingly it was holding up well.  
   
        The interior was simple, the entry immediately turning into a hallway which ran laterally, allowing entrance to several different rooms: Art, Photography, and Carpentry. I was surprised to find that all of the rooms were unoccupied; wasn’t it midweek? Were all the members on trips, working on projects, or simply gone?  
   
        Around the hallway’s single corner, a final door led to Cybernetics, which seemed to have an improvised sign on its door, made up of electronic components and circuit board. It was creative if not tacky as all hell.  
   
        Inside, Shurik was busy at work, tools and parts strewn about on a large workbench. He was busy drilling tiny holes in a steel plate with a noisy drill press, following some sort of schematic. His eyes stayed focused on his work as we entered, hidden behind his horn-rims and some thick safety goggles.  
   
        “Welcome to our humble abode! Home away from home!” Electronik announced, arms apart in a grandiose presentation.  
   
        Smelling of solder and stale hydraulic fluid, the club room was stuffed full of gear in a similar manner to the boys’ cabin, but on a much grander scale. Spools of wire hung from pegboards, tools neatly arranged in a similar fashion.

          Along with the drill press, there was some sort of lathe, lots of monitoring equipment and a soldering station. With loads of electronic components in bins... it was a technologist's dream. I couldn’t help but to be envious; back when I was in school, having a lab as well-equipped as this was the thing of fantasies. Either that or everything would be inoperable from years of neglect.  
   
        For these two supposed geniuses, it definitely fit. Shurik and Electronik spoke to each other briefly, in terms that were too technical for me to translate just yet. I let my gaze travel from place to place, drinking in the scenery.

          The nerdy part of me liked this place, yet the idea of trying to decipher what the Soviets believed about robotics didn't fill me with much enthusiasm. Not to say that my presence here couldn't influence something to actually be built, but I didn't feel as though my future depended on...  
   
        A robotic cat-girl. Sitting off to the side, leaning against the wall was a torso and head made from shaped plate steel. It had a certain amount of feminine styling to it, on top of that... cat ears. I wasn't sure what Shurik and Electronik were hoping to create with that.  
   
        “... _Interesno_...” I volunteered.  
   
        Shurik stopped the machine, which clattered to a noisy halt and looked up, his eyes glinting behind his glasses with the look of a mad scientist. “Yes, very. Glad to finally have another set of rugged hands.”  
   
        I made an instinctive shift back toward the door, which had been closed behind me. “I'm really just stopping by...”  
   
        “Nonsense! We have a multitude of things to accomplish, and with the five of us here, we could finally have a functioning robot before the end of term!” He seemed slightly pleading in this statement, but he quickly turned toward conniving. “If I do recall correctly, I believe you owe us for last night’s hospitality.”  
   
        It was apparent that Shurik was just as enthusiastic about the craft, if not more, than Electronik. He didn't appear to have the same personal drama issue; girls can become a major distraction.  
   
        I nodded. “I suppose you're right. I'm in your debt, after all. And did you say ‘five of us’?”  
   
        Shurik nodded, pointing out a motherboard-sized circuit board in the corner, which had a very complex layout of components attached to it. “Our assistants, Svetlana and Ivan, have been working on the logic center for our robot,” he explained. “They spend very little time in the lab, but their work is exemplary when they are present.”  
   
        “Yes,” Electronik agreed, “They’ve made things much easier for us, as well as keeping our club within the guidelines!” He explained further at my curious look. “We need at least four members to be seen as a viable club. Without that, we face the possibility of being… shut down.”  
   
        At the mention of such an event, the two robot-niks exchanged weary glances; it was obvious that their club’s status was under regular threat.  
   
        “That being explained,” said Shurik, closely inspecting the drilled plate, “Having helpers does provide us with the means to appeal for our existence when the need arises… _Shlyukha!”_ He suddenly threw the plate aside with disgust, sending it clattering across the floor and banging against one of the workbenches.  
   
        “Eh?” I asked, surprised to finally hear a non-technical word that I had no knowledge of. “What did that mean, if you don’t mind me asking…”  
   
        Electronik nervously scratched his neck. “Um… he called it a prostitute.” He added a laugh, obviously bashful with the concept of teaching me such a phrase.  
   
        Shurik lacked such tact, cutting straight to the basics. “The correct term would be a woman who gives of herself freely to others in a sexual capacity for potential monetary gain.”  
   
        I couldn’t help but laugh; his speech pattern was so clinical, it should’ve been on an educational program. The idea was simply hilarious to me. “Nice. I get it now.”  
   
        Electronik’s eyes lit up. “For a price, we can teach you more slang. You’ll be cursing like a sailor in no time!”  
   
        Shurik seemed to look at his counterpart with slight disapproval, but the two of them had a telepathic thing going on; he quickly changed his attitude. “Yes, we would surely instruct you in the vulgarities of the Russian language, provided that you do some busy-work for us. Would that be feasible?”  
   
       _Wow, what better way to impress Zhenya_? I thought. Actually, the idea wasn’t half-bad; who knew when I’d have to royally cuss someone out? “I may take you up on that,” I said. “So… I’m guessing something went wrong?”  
   
        Shurik nodded. “Yes. Unfortunately, I need to recalibrate the drill press. It simply will not deliver accurate results.”  
   
        “I can help with that,” I informed him. “I know my way around tools, and my fingers are pretty nimble.”  
   
        He looked pleased. “Excellent! We’ll put you to work straight away.”  
   
        Electronik rubbed his hands together. “Good! And now for your lesson. Let's start with this one: _Sookin syn!”_  
   
        Being that both of them had knowledge in English and Russian, they were able to clumsily translate for me while I stood precariously on top of the workbench, my hands buried deep in the inner workings of the drill press. “Son of a bitch” was my first phrase, courtesy of Electronik, followed by many other colorful expressions.  
  
       Before long, the three of us were cackling like hyenas as Shurik and Electronik gave me a full cultural lesson on bawdy talk that would surely offend one's mothers and extended family. It made the work difficult, but in the end we actually were having a good time.  
   
        It turned out that the machine wasn’t in too bad of a shape, and with a bit of trial and error it was up and running again, giving slightly better results in about half an hour. Not too shabby, considering that I’d only worked on car engines and bicycles in my time; surprisingly, those were a bit more complex than a fidgety old Soviet drill press that had seen better days. It was worn out; that was the main problem.  
   
        After cleaning the grease and oil from my hands, I took a further look around the clubroom, and feeling a bit more jovial, walked to the robotic cat-girl and studied it closely.

          “Okay, I can see making a female robot, it’s very artsy, but… what’s what the cat-ears?” I asked.

          Shurik took a clean rag to wipe his glasses with. “We concluded that if we were to make an extraordinary creation such as a fully-functional robot, it should have the appearance of an extraordinary humanoid. The idea _is_ unscientific, but there is no harm in such minor physical details.”

          “Once it’s operational, it should be able to walk, speak, and learn. That is the goal, anyway!” Electronik added.

          I lovingly caressed its face, making sure to ham it up. “So you’re telling me that if we finish building this delectable beauty, she’ll help to save the world? Perhaps, even teach us to love?”

          Drawing closer, I acted as though I were waltzing with the unfinished robot, lifting it off of the workbench and turning toward them. Shurik didn’t seem amused. “Not exactly. The logic center currently will only follow basic commands. We are still very far from programming a functional artificial intelligence, or “A.I.”, but hopefully, with a bit of Ivan’s admirable programming knowledge, we could achieve something that the West can only conjure in motion pictures!”  
   
        Feigning disappointment, I set the heavy robot chassis back on the bench. “Gentlemen, you disappoint me greatly. And so, what else is there for today?”  
   
        Electronik was happy to jump to the next topic, grabbing a rather heavy stack of notes and schematics, placing them on the workbench next to the soldering station. “Perhaps we can have you continue with...”  
   
        I suddenly heard the door to the club building open down the hall, followed by purposeful steps. Olga Dmitrievna burst in, nearly hitting me with the door. She looked at me with surprise, as though this were the last place she'd expected to find me. “Brion!” she exclaimed. “There you are.”  
   
        “Yes,” I replied, restraining my sarcasm, “Here I am.”  
   
        She looked a little perturbed, leaning toward me aggressively with knuckles on her waist. “I didn't see you at the lineup, young man. Would you care to offer an explanation as to why?”  
   
        Indeed, while this morning’s lineup took place, I was staring at the mess that had become my notes, followed by wrestling with Alisa somewhere out in the woods. It looked like I had inadvertently joined the ranks of the rebels from that little episode.  
  
        “I was... helping some other pioneers out of a tricky situation,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. I openly displayed my uniform’s shirt, which even after all the hand washing I’d attempted, was still filthy and stained from falling in the mud.  
   
        Suprisingly, the camp leader was quickly disarmed by this, her aggressive pose melting away. “Oh! Well then, that is good that you are helping and becoming familiar with others, but don't make a habit of missing out on your other tasks. The lineups are important, regardless of what some may think.  
           
        “Anyhow, it looks like you're already on the right track. I was going to task you with...” she stopped for a moment, looking around me. “Where is Zhenya?”  
   
        Electronik lost it for a moment. “What? Why would Zhenya be here?” he asked in a panic.  
   
        I waved him off. “It's fine, Olga Dmitrievna. Zhenya is at the library, preparing my Russian exam.”  
   
        She seemed impressed. “That was fast! Your Russian has really improved! At first I thought you'd never be able to communicate on your own!”  
   
        _Gee, thanks, lady_ , I thought. “So what is this task?  
   
        “All new arrivals to our camp are to visit the clubs and join one of their choosing, as well as visit the library and infirmary; it appears that you've already taken care of those things! You'd make an outstanding example to the other pioneers; although let’s forget that you didn’t have much choice!” She failed to stifle a laugh.  
   
        As much as she tried to sound supportive, I didn't much care for Olga Dmitrievna's patronizing tone. Sure, she was my patron, but even so...  
   
        “Have you been to the music club?” she asked.  
   
        I shrugged. “Can't say that I have... I didn't even know it existed.”  
   
        Her pleasant expression drooped slightly. “Well then, it appears that you still have at least one important task to complete, then. How about the gymnasium?”  
   
        “Oh, yes...” my mind drifted to my first session with Violetta. I realized just how dirty that sounded.  
   
        “Alright. And have you visited the exchange?”  
   
        I remembered her mentioning the exchange on my first day, but it'd become a distant memory. “No... can't say I've seen that.”  
   
        She crossed her arms, smiling in a somewhat smug manner. “Well, it would appear that you aren't setting an example just yet, then! I will accompany you to the exchange to get a new uniform, and then you can go visit the music club. Let’s be sure that you accomplish all of these tasks today.”  
   
        Shurik cleared his throat and spoke in weak protest. “Actually, forgive the intrusion, Olga Dmitrievna, but Brion was just about to assist us with...”  
   
        Olga cut him off rather bluntly. “It can wait. I also don't think he should delay his testing; I am sure that Zhenya is expecting!”  
   
        “ _Expecting_?” Electronik sounded like he was going to swallow his own tongue.  
   
        I threw a quick glance his way, shaking my head. “I'll get right on it,” I replied, quickly stepping out of the room. I didn't feel like dealing with these formalities, but I was somewhat glad that Olga had inadvertently saved me from becoming the two cyberneticists' indentured servant.  
   
            Stepping back out into the heat, I wondered just how important these tasks really were; perhaps I could just not go and say that I did?  
   
          Olga was quick to follow me; looked like I wasn't going to avoid her today. “So, which pioneer made your uniform such a mess?” she asked, leading me in what I assumed was the direction of the exchange.

          At first I was going to answer truthfully; at the time, getting Alisa in trouble wasn’t beyond reasonable. Then again, I’d had enough of her antagonizing behavior for a while. Ratting her out would probably make things worse. “Just a random one… I don’t quite remember his name.” I fibbed.  
   
        The camp leader nodded curtly, pulling her white Bermuda back over her long auburn hair. She surveyed the grounds with watchful eyes for a few moments, then seemed to relax, walking next to me with a practiced, strong air.

          The exchange wasn’t very far from the club building, it turned out. It was contained inside the administration building; similar in construction to the canteen, Administration was a one-story tall, squarish edifice constructed with off-white bricks. It was obvious that it was one of the oldest buildings in the camp, with several sections looking like add-ons. It too had an enclosed porch, with a small set of concrete steps leading inside, as well as some rather old-looking trees that seemed to lean in toward the building.

          The lobby was deserted and quiet, the counter immediately inside lacking an occupant. I was greeted with yet another bust of Lenin, framed pictures of pioneer groups from years gone by, and a huge rifle—a Mosin Nagant – hanging up on hooks near the ceiling, accompanying an iconic plaque of the hammer and sickle and a photograph of a young man in a thick coat and fur hat, carrying the very same rifle in his arms, no doubt ready to fight the Wehrmacht for Mother Russia.

          The whole place smelled somewhat antiseptic, almost like a hospital; it was a bit off-putting to say the least. The main lobby doubled as an office area, with several other desks that appeared unoccupied at the moment.

          A hallway immediately branched off to the right, decorated with Soviet propaganda posters every meter or so. In that direction, the sound of turning pages could be heard. Olga led me in that direction.

          In a windowed booth, we found Lena staring bored at a worn-out magazine—some nature photography volume, from the looks of it. Upon our approach, she quickly snapped to attention, pushing the magazine aside and shrinking a bit at the presence of our camp leader.

          “Z… _Zdrastvuyte_!” Lena spoke a bit too loudly, as though the word had been fighting to escape from her throat. She looked back and forth at the two of us.

 _Hello_ – The formal version. I smiled and replied in her native tongue. “ _Dobroye utro_ , Lena. _Rad vas videt’_.”

          Her shy green eyes seemed to narrow at me for a moment, but she mustered a cute little smile. “Thanks… nice to see you too…”

          Olga nodded, as though we were being graded on our little exchange of words. “Brion is going to need a new uniform.” Her tone of voice was starkly different from Lena’s characteristically fragile one; very to-the-point, but gentle enough. “He got into a bit of a mishap this morning.”

          To say “a bit of a mishap” was an understatement, looking at my shirt; caked with dirt and grass stains, along with blood spots, it looked exactly as it really was: like I’d been in a fight. Still, I wasn’t going to divulge that much.

          Lena stared at me for a few moments, her eyes seeming to register a deep concern and fear for a moment before nodding. “Okay… I’d be happy to help.”

          I was issued another shirt; this one with long sleeves. It’d make a nice pairing with my long pants, I supposed, but just what was going on with the supply around this place? At first glance, it at least seemed to be my size. _“Spasibo.”_ I replied.

          “I’ll leave it to you to change.” Olga looked at her wristwatch for a moment, as though having a place to be. “And then I expect you to visit the music club, young man. Normally I’d have you sign a checklist, but I’ll be sure to check up with Miku later. Don’t delay!”

 _Miku???_ Oh boy…

          Not waiting for a response from me, our camp leader marched off determinedly. I still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman and her strange behavior.

          Lena stood as still as a statue with a prim and proper stance, hands together in front of her, looking shyly at me before turning away. I felt compelled to try and start a conversation with her, but like many times in my life, I hadn’t the slightest idea how to do it.

          I decided to be redundant, instead: I quickly said “ _Spasibo”_ one last time before making a quick exit, back down the hall and out of the administration building.

          Ducking down into the bushes, I made sure I was out of the view of prying eyes before changing my shirt. The new one fit a bit stiffly; it was starched like no tomorrow. Or maybe it just felt like that after walking around in the old one, which was rumpled and damp. I stuffed it into my satchel and donned the neckerchief and American flag pin once more.

 _Okay… do I really want to subject myself to this?_ I wondered, thinking about my next task. From the signs, I was able to determine where to go to find the music building, but the idea of speaking to Miku again after realizing just how much the girl could actually talk…

          Well, if Olga Dmitrievna was really going to check up on me, it was probably best not to give her fuel for her fire. I stood up and headed north, where a strangle little building with an angular, artistic shape stood in the distance.


	8. Darkening Skies

          Somewhat isolated at the end of a long, brick-laden path, the music club was so far to the north that it was almost out of the camp grounds; presumably because of noise. Its construction didn't match any of the other buildings in camp; it had a very modern design, with a white exterior, loads of windows on one side, and a slanted roof. Its appearance made me wonder if it had been a church at one point.

          I stood at the doorstep and listened, pausing before attempting to enter. Despite the building’s purpose, there was no sound to be heard from inside. It was eerily quiet.   
  
          Opening the door, I entered an empty room; empty being a relative term – there was nobody to be seen.

          The place looked rather pristine, with walls that were not as white as the exterior, but still giving the impression of brightness. On one wall was a chalkboard -- I instantly recognized musical nomenclature: staff lines, notes, and progression markings.

          Lined up in front of the board was a large array of musical instruments. My eyes fell on acoustic and electric guitars – rather odd to see such a thing in _any_ music room, let alone here. There was a full drum kit as well, although its various parts were placed oddly, as though it were here for storage and not so much to be played.

          The centerpiece of the room was a black baby grand piano, its lid partially open. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the one hundred-plus-year-old Steinway that I’d been spoiled with back at college, but it was a welcome sight.

          I wandered the room for a minute or so, taking time to notice two portraits of old composers; I recognized Bach rather quickly, but the other guy I was drawing a blank on. I suppose it wasn’t of importance; I doubted that knowing would help me unravel any of my mysteries.

          Just as I was about to turn and leave, the door opened and in stepped Miku, who was humming a tune to herself. She was rather animated, her long hair and slender body seeming to be in a sort of graceful yet constant motion. Her eyes went slightly wide upon seeing me in her supposed sanctuary.

          “Um… ah…” she began.

          Was she really short of words? This was a new one.

          She pursed her lips, then spoke again, still with great difficulty and a troubled look on her face. “ _Pulees to miet jyou!”_

          I wasn’t sure how to respond to Miku’s dogged attempt at pronouncing English at me. I could tell that she wasn’t a scholar by any means, but considering that I’d only spoken to her once or twice since arriving, I guessed that she thought I was still ignorant of her native tongue.

 _“Vsio normalno,”_ I replied, holding a hand up. “ _Ya uchil._ ”

          She smiled then, her pained expression vanishing. “Oh, that is _such_ a relief. For a second there I thought we were going to have another odd conversation with each other! It’s been really weird, hasn’t it? I mean, not really weird, but, you know, I haven’t been able to understand you, and I’m sure you didn’t understand me either the first time that we met last week. Wait, was that last week? Or is it still this week? I think I’ve lost track of the days again. It happens pretty easily around here…”

          Even with my newfound prowess, Miku’s words were no slower than usual. I was translating them rather quickly now, but it was still taxing on the brain to hear so much at once. I racked my brain for a moment; she seemed to be waiting for an answer. “Um… I think it’s Friday.”

          She smiled pleasantly, holding her hands to one cheek in an overdone expression of cuteness. “Oh! That’s right, then! Thanks for remembering that. Your Russian has gotten a lot better. Did I mention that? I’m not sure if I did. Anyway, you’re here to join the music club, aren’t you? It's so fun here! I mean, it's usually only me, but with you here...” Her train of thought visually derailed. “Hey, what about Zhenya?”

          “What about her?”

          “Maybe you can get her to join, too! Where is she, anyway? Shouldn’t she be with you? I mean, not like involved or anything, but around you… or are you two involved? I can’t really tell.”

          This again? I was finding it a little more than odd to have this brought to me again. “We’re not… um… Olga Dmitrievna wanted me to visit, that’s all.” I quickly changed the topic.

          “Oh, I see!” The brightness in her eyes faded slightly. “But don’t you like music at all? If you don’t, I could totally teach you! I know practically every style: jazz, rock and roll, blues… Or hey, can you teach me any traditional American songs? You know, I could sing you a few Japanese folk tunes, if you'd like! My mother has taught me so many of them. They can be very beautiful; some are funny, or even dirty! Well, I don’t really care much for the dirty ones, but I learned them just in case...”

          “I actually play guitar,” I finally spoke. “I have a big background in music. I sing, too.”

          She was over the moon then, a heel kicking up behind her and her earlier expression of cuteness morphing to one resembling adoration—she was practically fan-girling. “You do? Well then you _have_ to join now! You can’t tell me that and then not join, that would be such a tease! Hardly anyone ever wants to hang around in here with me.”

          I hated to admit it, but I could understand why. If not an acquired taste, Miku was certainly too flavorful for her own good.

          “Can I have a little time to think about it?” I asked. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I can’t just join up, can I?”

          Miku looked a little confused for a moment. “Well, why not? You said that you have a big background in music, so being here might even be boring for you! I mean, depends on what you mean by ‘big background’. What exactly do you mean, anyway?”

          I didn't want to go over my entire musical history; I technically couldn’t without sounding like I was lying; in truth I’d been all over the world in my journey toward getting my college degree. Saying such a thing while being a teenager in everyone’s eyes wouldn’t be very bright. “My family is very musical, and… I’ve had a lot of classes. Some of them abroad.” I did my best to give an accurate, yet abbreviated explanation.

          This was met with a smile. “Well, of course you have! Since you’re an ambassador, I’m sure you’ve done quite a lot of traveling. Me too, in fact. I go back and forth from here and Japan a lot with my parents, so travel isn’t new to me. Say, what’s the most interesting place you’ve been to?”

          Rather than go down that rabbit trail with her, I looked away and took a closer look at one of the acoustic guitars. I couldn’t recognize any kind of brand, but seeing such a familiar fixture from my life was comforting. I tentatively brushed the strings with one hand, then carefully picked the instrument from its stand.

          With expectant eyes, Miku watched as I began to play a simple progression off the top of my head. For some reason I couldn’t remember the exact tune, but the chords were certainly there, as though echoing from my world into this one: C, G, A-minor, and F. After a repeat, I broke into A-minor, G, C, and F; inversions. Yet, the words or even where it came from were a complete mystery to me.

          At the end of my short display, she clapped her hands. “See, that was good! You _really_ should join up now! Please say yes; or at least come back every once in a while. I promise that we’ll have a good time playing together.”

          She was really pleading now; guilt from the possibility of refusing forced my mouth into an uncomfortable smile. “I guess I could give it a try. If it really means that much to you, that is.”

 _Wow, that much of a sucker for a pretty girl?_ I was kicking myself mentally already.

          “Thank you! Thank you so much!” For a second it looked like she was going to hug me, but she managed to control herself. “Okay, so do you play any other instruments? Piano? Oh, how about the flute? I just _adore_ the sound of a flute, don't you? Or a trumpet? ...I don't really like the trumpet, you have to do weird things with your lips, and then you have to _breathe,_ and I've never had good lung capacity for something like that. My doctor told me that it's because my body is so small, so my lungs are small, too! Can you _believe_ that she actually said that to me? It was so mean! I wanted to cry.”

  
          Her words continued for an unknown length of time as I continued to noodle about with the guitar, letting my fingers improvise a few licks up and down the neck. I still had some skill, but my younger body had little muscle memory for some of the things I was trying to play.

          Eventually, the loudspeakers sounded; just loud enough to cut through Miku's talking and playing a tune on the piano, signaling my release from a musical purgatory.  
   
           
          Walking together, we headed in the direction of the canteen, my satchel draped over one shoulder. “That was fun!” she said. “If you have time, we should come back after lunch and keep playing! I’ve been working on a few songs lately, so maybe you could help me out with them.”

          I scrambled for an answer; I really didn’t want to cave again. Surely there was something else that I could be doing!

          Wait, of course there was. I nearly smacked my forehead when I realized it. “I should probably see Zhenya after lunch,” I said politely. “She's been waiting for me to take an exam, and I've been putting it off.”

          She laughed. “I understand. It was great playing with you. Please, just promise that you’ll be back soon.”

          “I promise.” I smiled at her; a genuine smile, which was a bit of a surprise considering how annoyed I’d been with her originally. Despite her quirky personality, I was actually finding her tolerable. Either that or I’d been softened up by a red-headed brat and an ill-tempered bruiser enough to be slightly more patient.  
      

          With Miku humming a simple tune the rest of the way, we crossed the square and entered the canteen, which to our surprise was nearly empty. According to my watch, we were on time, but only a few tables were taken.  
  
          “Hey, come sit with me and Lena!” she said as we returned from the counter with our food.  
   
          Lena was sitting by herself, next to a window. She didn't seem particularly interested in the kasha that we'd been given for lunch, picking at it absently with her fork. She gave the two of us a sideways glance, looking slightly more timid than usual.  
   
         However, Zhenya was also seated alone, a few tables away. She gave me a low stare above her glasses, looking sullen.   
  
         It wasn’t an easy decision, but I knew what had to be done. “I'll have to take a raincheck on that, Miku.”  
   
         With that, I left her and sat down across from Zhenya. “I apologize...” I began.   
  
          She barely gave me a chance. Her delivery was slow and steady, her displeasure rising by the second. “Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? You said you'd be at the library as soon as breakfast was over, and yet... I see you running around with Ulyana! And now Miku! Is the novelty lost on you already?”  
   
         What was this? Zhenya sounded like she was getting jealous again, like the situation with the nurse.  
   
        “I know what I said, and I...”  
   
        “Do you know how difficult it is to come up with lesson plans, let alone examinations? I don't just have these things sitting around, waiting to be used. I have to create everything myself to make sure that you’re learning!” She was getting visibly agitated.  
   
        “I know you don't...”  
   
        “Frankly, it's none of my business what you do, but you should take things more seriously! I've spent this whole week of my time on you, and yet you're out having fun with... with...”  
             
        I decided to shift gears on her; apologizing obviously wasn't working. “Do _you_ want to have fun?”  
   
        It worked. Zhenya's glasses almost seemed to steam up at my question. “I... what?” she asked.  
   
        I took a quick sip of water, setting the glass back down. “If you wanted to do something fun together, you could've said so. Although with a morning like mine, you should be glad you had time to yourself.”  
   
        She crossed her arms, glaring at me harshly. “Don't make this about you!”  
   
        I threw my hands up. “Well okay, let's make it about you, then!”  
   
        I realized just how much we were sounding like an old couple. Apparently this was the sort of thing that was giving people the wrong idea about us. It was getting more awkward by the second.  
   
        Zhenya choked on her words for a few moments before speaking again. “I've just been waiting for you. You could have at _least_ had the decency to tell me that you had other things to do. It's very... rude,” she stated, becoming quiet and more composed.  
   
        “You know how things are around here. I didn’t have much of a choice,” I explained. “Anyway, if we’re done arguing, I'm ready to take the test now. I'll even follow you to the library in handcuffs, if that's how it has to be.”  
   
          A devilish gleam appeared in her eyes, and her mood suddenly shifted; a desired effect, if not somewhat creepy. “I do know where to find those!” she said slyly.   
  
          _Likely under the floorboards in Ulyana's cabin,_ I thought.  
             
          Her temper seemed to subside, and she began to eat her meal, which had gone mostly untouched.

   
          After an uncomfortable couple of minutes, we chatted about our mornings; unlike me, Zhenya had spent all of hers in the library, listening to the radio, dusting, and staring at the wall. It was pedestrian, to say the least.  
   
        More pioneers began to file in, and before long the canteen was bustling with its usual activity. After hearing my tales— I omitted the part where I learned of Electronik's devastating penchant for her – Zhenya simply laughed, then stared at me intensely through her bifocal lenses. “Okay, testing now. Resistance is useless!”  
   
        I wanted to laugh as well; she sounded exactly like a character from the famous Douglas Adams novel...  
   
        Laughter would have been easy if it hadn’t been for the cold cup of kissel - a thick, almost syrupy fruit drink - that was offered over my head, turned upside-down in a rather spilling fashion. I barely caught a glimpse of rigid horror from Zhenya before my eyes were glued shut by the sweet beverage. “What...the...hell...” I groaned, trying my best to clear the thick, sticky fluid from my eyes.  
   
        I turned around, not at all surprised to see Alisa standing behind and above me, her hand still extended over my head with the now-empty paper cup. She was wearing her trademark glare, standing as still as a statue. “This. Is. War.” she stated simply, tensing her muscles as though she were ready to commence battle right then and there.  
   
        I stood up, staring her in the eyes, which was a bit of a mistake; her irises were like the sunset, fire-red and gold, and she was quite masterful at looking spiteful. Still, I had to issue a rebuttal. “War, huh?”  
   
        She ground one of her sandals against the floor tiles, dropping the cup noisily onto the floor. “I'll make your life a living hell.”  
   
        “I'm... not quite ready for a relationship right now.” The fact that this line flew out of my mouth the way that it did was a surprise, to say the least.  
   
        Alisa immediately lost it at my statement, pursing her lips together, then gritting her teeth. “You... you!!! I'll make you wish you never came to this country, hear me? I don’t give a damn who you are!”  
   
        It looked like we were really going to wail on each other when Olga Dmitrievna stomped forward, making her way around several other pioneers who had noticed the action and were busy gawking. “Dvachevskaya! What on earth are you thinking?” she growled, her voice rising above all other sounds in the room.  
   
        At first it seemed that Alisa was going to give Olga the same treatment of attitude, but the camp leader threw a glare very similar to the other night; the same one she wore when she pounced on me. The rebel with strawberry-blonde hair seemed to shrink before her.  
   
        “You know,” Olga continued, her gaze intensifying, “If you think I've forgotten about your 'mishap' with the statue last year, you're gravely mistaken, you _punk_! Because of that, Genda had to be taken down, and now this – You're attacking a goodwill ambassador! What do you have to say for yourself?”  
   
        Alisa seemed to gain a second wind, if only for a few moments. “You called me a...” Her words failed her, then she came back. “...Goodwill my _ass!_ He fondled me the first day he showed up here! He tried to grab my rack! Ask Ulyana, she saw the whole thing!”  
   
        The camp leader was not swayed. She put her hands on her hips and squared off her shoulders at Alisa, eyebrows lowering in fierce rage. Her voice thundered with incredible volume. “I've had it with your lies! It's time for you to learn a lesson! You're spending the rest of the day in the brig!”  
   
        Alisa looked visibly worried. “Wait, the brig? We have one?” she asked, her voice a tiny guppy compared to Olga’s great white shark.  
   
        Olga Dmitrievna laughed, sounding like some sort of villain. “Of course we do! We had it made especially for the likes of you. Start walking! Go to Administration, now!”  
   
        With that, Alisa shuffled away in a huff, the camp leader dead on her trail. It looked like she wasn't going to get off easy this time.

        The situation quickly defused, everyone slowly returning to their regularly-scheduled programming. The tension in the air floated away like dust in the wind.  
   
        “So glad that's over!” Zhenya finally spoke, handing me a napkin. I did my best to wipe away the kissel, which was getting stickier by the second. My hair was becoming a matted mess; I'd need a thorough washing, yet again.  
   
        “Yeah... can I have a minute to take care of this?” I asked.  
   
        Zhenya shook her head defiantly. “I'm not losing track of you again. Just come take the exam! It won't take long.”  
   
        I looked at her incredulously. “Even just to run my head under the tap? I’m a mess!”  
   
        “No!” she insisted, her voice taking on a note of near-panic. “Come to the library before some other crazy thing happens!”  
             
         A bit annoyed by her persistence, I dipped the napkin in my water glass and did my best to clean up before grudgingly following her. I wasn’t sure as to why she was so adamant. For the time being, one of the biggest instigators of strife in the camp was being marched off to a holding cell, and as long as Ulyana behaved herself, we had little to worry about.

          The library was empty, as usual. Over the past few days of study, I had only seen one or two other people enter during business hours; Lena being one of them, quietly asking for a single book.

          I seated myself at the reading table in the corner, which in the past days had become like a second home to me and waited.

          “Okay,” Zhenya said simply, placing a rather thick, leather-bound book on the surface in front of me. I glanced at the title: _Fyodor Dostoevsky – Collected Works_.

          I'd never read Dostoevsky myself, although his name was familiar. I'd often intended to on the occasions where I wanted to feel particularly snooty in a modern age.“Do you want me to read this entire thing?” I asked, noting the book's superior thickness. Like many Russian authors, Dostoevsky wasn't known for his brevity, that was for sure.

          Zhenya chuckled, shaking her head. “No! Just... at the bookmark. It's a short story, I promise.”

           I turned to the bookmark that she'd placed. The story was entitled _Belyye Nochi -- White Nights_. From the looks of it, it was still quite the read, despite what she’d told me. “And... what do you want me to do?”

          She looked frustrated for a brief moment. “Dictate! Translate and read aloud to me in English, and take your time. If you can do that, then obviously all of our studies won’t have been wasted.”

          I sighed. I guess it wasn't that bad of a task; I loathed the idea of writing more test sentences, or even multiple-choice nonsense. Did Zhenya have the story memorized? She must have had a brain like a filing cabinet if she knew any of these word-for-word.

          Taking a breath, I began to read aloud, doing my best not to trip over the book's relatively small font. At first I was a bit shaky; dictation was something I hadn't done in quite a while.

           
          The tale unfolded, of the lonely man who met a young girl on the streets of St. Petersburg. He tells of his terminal loneliness—in ways, I felt a sense of identification. The main character's life had been admittedly lonesome to the point of being pitiful, to where the few acquaintances he had only felt sorry for him, and his friends had more or less turned their backs on him. In ways I felt as though I were reading about myself.

          I remembered how in over a year, I hadn't spoken with my best friend, who had dropped out of sight ever since getting married. I was the best man at his wedding, was one of the few people he knew who he could trust with anything, and yet...

          I stood up from the chair, trying to find my flow. I felt a bit constricted while sitting down to read, with Zhenya’s eyes focused right on me at moments where I’d look up from the book. This way felt more natural, as though I were reciting lines from a play.

          Pacing, I opened the book again and continued to read aloud:

_“Listen," interrupted Nastenka, who had listened to me all the time in amazement, opening her eyes and her little mouth. 'Listen; I don't know in the least why it happened and why you ask me such absurd questions; all I know is, that this adventure must have happened word for word to you."_

_"Doubtless,' I answered, with the gravest face._  
          _"Well, since there is no doubt about it, go on," said Nastenka, "because I want very much to know how it will end.”_

          And so the story continued. The two became friends. The protagonist fell in love with her in spite of her insistence on remaining platonic, and then... just as he thought his love would finally be requited, the lover who’d abandoned the girl at the start of the story returned out of the blue, swiftly taking her away, as though no feelings had ever developed on her end; surely, they had! At least, that's what I believed.

           
          And yet…

          I stopped reading then, noticing that I’d been at it for quite a while, and was nearing the last page of the story. I closed my eyes tightly.

          “Is something wrong?” Zhenya asked. Normally she’d say this in a somewhat harsh tone; conversely, she was surprisingly gentle in her inflection. While I'd stood up and wandered about during my dictation, she'd taken a seat on top of the reading table, rather than the chair that she normally sat backward in.

          I shook my head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

          “Then why are you stopping?”

          My eyes traced back over the last few paragraphs, my mind drifting yet again. I'd done well not to reflect but every once in a long while on...

_Her.._

          “I loved her. I thought she loved me. We were supposedly inseparable... but in the end, she left. She gave herself completely to someone who only wanted her for himself... not for herself.”

Zhenya cleared her throat. “That isn’t in the text.”

           I closed the book. “I know.”

          As thunder rolled outside, rain clouds getting closer with every minute, I paced back and forth, no longer wanting to read. A heavy silence fell on us, save for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the library.

          That world—my world – was so far away from me now. And yet... here I was, reading a story that hit all too close to home. Somehow this nineteenth-century author had reached across time to slap me in the face with his prose. I had put so much distance between myself and my memories, and yet they'd all followed me here, to whatever this place was. This place where I now lived, but wasn't my home.

          I opened the book once more, determined to finish this story while I could still find the strength.

_“But to imagine that I should bear you a grudge, Nastenka! That I should cast a dark cloud over your serene, untroubled happiness; that by my bitter reproaches I should cause distress to your heart, should poison it with secret remorse and should force it to throb with anguish at the moment of bliss; that I should crush a single one of those tender blossoms which you have twined in your dark tresses when you go with him to the altar.... Oh never, never! May your sky be clear, may your sweet smile be bright and untroubled, and may you be blessed for that moment of blissful happiness which you gave to another, lonely and grateful heart!_

_My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of a man's life?”_

          The story finally ended, and Zhenya gave me delayed, yet polite applause. “Very nice. Despite your… contributions… you passed with flying colors.” Her face took on a look of calm, blissful reflection. “I particularly love this story. It's beautiful, don't you think? So much emotion; the pathos! It's exquisite.”

          “It’s bittersweet nonsense,” I remarked sourly. I sounded a little like her at that moment.

          Her gaze narrowed at me, anger in her eyes. “Nonsense? _Nonsense?_ ”

           I shook my head. “Forgive me. The ramblings of a bitter man. That's... me.” Taking a final look at the volume, I handed it back to her. “I’m glad that I passed.”

          She crossed her legs, holding the book as though it were a precious artifact. “You were _amazing_.” She seemed self-conscious as she brushed her hair back over her ear. “I can't believe that after only four days, you were able to read like that. You did well with the words, but beyond that, you really captured the emotion, Brion.”

          I nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. I suppose I have a little bit of experience in the field.”

          She set the book down on the table, looking slightly uncomfortable. “You've had a broken heart. So has everybody.”

          “That a fact?” I snapped.

          She was intimidated by my sudden outburst. “Yes, I… suppose.”

          “You?”

          Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she hesitated. “A while ago, yes. When I was a bit younger, before I was working here as a librarian. Why?”

          I shrugged. “Identification. Sometimes it's nice to know that you're not alone.”

          “And... sometimes you wish you were?”

          I nodded. “You're reading me much like a book.”

          She smiled at my pun. “You're being open like one.”

          Silence drifted between the two of us. I felt drained; thinking back on my last love affair – which I’d deemed to be the most painful one of all – always made me feel like I wanted to sleep and escape from the world at large. It had a profound physical and emotional effect on me.

          “We haven't spoken to each other in over six months.” I explained with as even a tone as I could muster. “We never even had a goodbye. Just... suddenly, I realized that she was gone. No words, no fighting. In ways, I even saw it coming, but I was in denial. I wonder if I ever had her love. Maybe I did at one point, but... in the end, it wasn't me who got the best of her.”

          Zhenya pursed her lips, sniffled, and took her glasses off to clean them. At least, I thought that was what she was doing.

          “Why did you choose that story?” I asked.

           She shrugged. “I told you, it's one of my absolute favorites. When he describes the girl for the first time in detail, you can almost feel him coming to life inside. It's by far one of the best-written pieces of prose. In a way...” she paused, cheeks flushing again, “It's sensual.”

          I smiled. Like the stereotypical librarian, Zhenya found sensuality in the oddest of places; books, in particular. Admittedly, I'd heard how Dostoevsky's writing was full of great romances, _White Nights_ being no exception, despite being depressing at the end.

          At least, that was what I'd heard. I’d been a virgin to such writing, but now I'd been given one of the best opportunities. On top of that, I was reading it aloud to a pretty, bookish girl who was sitting on the desk, legs crossed... for someone so short, they were rather long and slender, milky white…

          The way that she was leaning forward, eyes locked onto mine, was a definite indicator of intent; I’d been denying it; being oblivious, as a number of females had accused me in my time. Through the day, it seemed that everyone was dropping hints, and now there was proof, so close I could almost reach out and touch it.

          “Sensual?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

          She cocked her head slightly sideways; with legs swinging girlishly back and forth, a playful expression on her face, she’d been checking me out, much like I’d just done to her. “Hm? Oh, yes. The description in the writing is very lush, after all. If you go over it slowly, allow it to unfold... it is _quite_ sensual.” Her voice was adopting a low, sultry tone, almost as deep as Violetta’s. If anything, I felt that the two were trying to compete. “May I ask you something, Brion?”

          I waved a hand. “Sure.”

          She calmly slid off the table, approaching me with her arms behind her back. “Would you say that your relationship with this girl back in your country is still active, then? Or are you moving forward?”

          A very direct question. How could I possibly answer her? I could already see—like the proverbial writing on the wall—where this was heading. I felt the rise of a certain feeling; a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

          “What I mean to say is,” she continued, “Are you hoping to become like Nastenka, where your lover will someday return and whisk you away? Or perhaps… you’ll one day do it to her, as you’d hoped?”

          I turned my face away from her, feeling embarrassed and ashamed; I realized the grave error I’d made in revealing this part of my personal life, as innocent as it may have seemed.

          Zhenya took another step toward me, proceeding further with a proposal. “After all, it will be a long summer here, and you are far from the people you know. Others… may want to know you, perhaps nurse your broken heart.”

          Now she was less than a foot away, staring straight into the side of my face but impossible to ignore. Her very presence next to me was sending signals through my body; not romantic ones, either. I felt a very deep, primal—or should I say carnal—reaction from her words. Her feminine charm, enhanced by an understated, dark beauty was grabbing hold of me. I realized just how much I was beginning to sound like Electronik in my mind.

          “I… don’t have any delusion in my mind that she’ll be coming back,” I finally told her, trying to look into her eyes, which was becoming an exceedingly difficult task. “I don’t think I’d want her to.”

          Zhenya smiled girlishly. “That’s good to hear.”

          “But…” I continued, “I don’t know what I want. I feel… afraid. I’m afraid of trusting another woman with my heart. All I see anymore is…” My eyes began to move down her body; whether or not it was voluntary remains completely unknown to me. “Something to conquer.”

          This statement made Zhenya take a tentative step back from me. “You mean…”

          I sighed succinctly. “Well, let’s not kid each other, Zhenya. My heart’s been hurt pretty well, and as much as I want to move on, I don’t. But… having a little fun isn’t out of the question. At least, I don’t think it is.”

          Her jaw dropped—a reasonable reaction. “That… you must be joking. That has to be a joke! How can you say something so… shameless? This isn’t like you.”

          “Maybe it’s because it’s true,” I replied, furrowing my brow. “Or maybe I’ve simply been ruined by American girls who think it’s better to treat _me_ like something disposable. Maybe it’s all women… who knows?”

          She shook her head defiantly. “That… it’s not true! Not all women are like that…”

          “Just the ones you’ve met!” I quoted. “I’ve heard it all before, Zhenya. That statement and some of the most opportunistic, manipulative broads in existence coming my way have more or less convinced me that I’m fighting a losing battle.”

          Her stance became guarded and moody. “That is really rude. I can’t believe you’re saying these things to me when you know me… and yet, you _don’t_ know me. Where do you get off with such an ego to even think that way?”

          In my depressed speech, I failed to realize just how much like an asshole I was sounding. Still, in my mind, it was all true. What’s worse, I was completely insulting Zhenya, who despite her temper had been great to me this entire week. I really knew very little about her, and yet I was making a blanket judgment against her.

          “You’re right,” I told her. “I suppose it’s unfair to say something like that to you.”

          She looked me in the eyes again, her expression a bit on the somber side. “I wouldn’t do any of those things to you.”

          Her words cut me like a knife; not because I was guilty of anything, though. “That’s what she told me once,” I said.

          Zhenya was aghast. “Well… I _mean_ it! I wouldn’t! I’d…” her words trailed off, train of thought not making a connection at the moment. “I’d…”

          “Are you confessing to me?” I asked.

          “What does it look like?” she snapped. There went that tuft of hair again, bobbing like an antenna. “Of course I’m confessing! I just don’t know how to, what with you telling me such horrible things! If you’re speaking truth, then women from your country sound terrible! I’d hate to meet one _ever_ in my life, particularly the one you were speaking of! How vile can one be to do such horrible things to your views of all women?”

          Smiling faintly, I placed both of my hands on her shoulders. “ _Spasibo,”_ I told her, deciding that English was becoming far overrated at this moment. “Zhenya, I know how you feel.”

          Her anger seemed to subside for a brief moment. “We could do things differently. I mean, maybe… if we start dating, I can show you. It doesn’t have to be anything like what you know. Things could be so much better.”

          As gently as I could, I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know. It’s as I said, I’m not ready. You’re… great, Zhenya. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, but… when it comes down to it, I just don’t feel the same way.”

          A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t… know what to say. I can’t deny what I’m feeling,” she said, voice quavering. “It’s happened so fast! I didn’t think I’d feel this way about you when we met just days ago, and now…”

          I felt that it was best to take my hands off of her. It was very obvious that I’d hurt her, although it was the last thing on my mind. She seemed very distraught, staring at the floor, hands wringing her upper arms.

          Thunder crashed overhead, a signal from the heavens that things were about to shift into turmoil for the two of us. “You’re… horrible,” she finally said.

          “Zhenya, I…”

           “First you tell me this sad story about this other girl, and then you tell me that I can’t do anything to _help_ you with that, that you don’t feel the same way… oh, except apparently you’d like to “have fun”, if it is what I’m thinking. Why didn’t you just say that you don’t like me from the start?! That would’ve been easier than making me feel the need to mother you before being cast down!”

          I tried to speak, but words refused to exit my lips. She was absolutely right, that was for certain. I really _was_ horrible! I was just as horrible as anyone in my past that I’d tried to paint in the same light.

          She shook her head, walking briskly to her counter. “Please leave. I… I have work to do. Just go away for now,” she said dismissively, her shoes clomping on the wooden floor.

          Reluctantly, I moved toward the door, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. I wanted to do something, _anything_ to make her feel better. “I’m sorry,” I offered.

          “I’m sorry, too,” she replied from behind the counter, staring at me coldly. She didn’t have to say it, but I knew that her sorrow came from a completely different direction. “Take the weekend off. In fact, just take off!”

          Her words were abrasive; I’d never heard this tone from her. It made the hairs on my neck stand up. “Go,” she continued, “And don’t make me spell it for you. Leave me here alone, thank you! Goodbye!”

          “Zhenya, please…”

          With a nearly imperceptible motion, a book came hurtling my way. I blocked it with my arms, sending it crashing to the floor. Damn, did it hurt! If I hadn’t blocked it, I would’ve caught it with my face.

          “The next one will hit harder. _Get. Out!”_ Her face was full of fury now, and I knew that I was pushing the limits with her; she’d be coming to cut me into ribbons if I kept this up.

          For once, I knew when to quit. I’d made plenty of mistakes, and now all I could do was run while I still had legs. I made my way out the door just as she picked up an even larger book to throw at me.

 _  
          Welcome to Brion’s life, a collection of colossal damned failures…_ I thought, stumbling out into a downpour.


	9. Caged And Enraged

          The rain was falling from the sky in a vicious torrent. I didn’t even care that my uniform was once again being soaked through. For the first time that day, I felt thankful for it; I welcomed it.

          I remembered my words to Electronik earlier, at the washing stands. _There's nothing going on between the two of us_ , I’d told him.

          Well, he sure as hell got his wish. Zhenya more or less hated me now.

           Turning my face to the sky, I allowed the rain to fall into my mouth like a shower, which was one thing that I missed very much in this camp; a good, long shower to stand in and think, to wash away all the troubling thoughts of the day.

           The rain was warm, which felt great on a day like this one. Taking a quick look around, I could see that some of the other pioneers didn't seem to mind it, either; there were a few of them running on the athletic fields, kicking a football – soccer, for us Americans -- around in large military-style raincoats. Obviously they were thinking much further ahead than I was.

          Standing slightly off to the side, supervising, was Olga Dmitrievna. She was somewhat easy to spot, standing tall and vigilant, thick auburn hair spilling forward from her raincoat. She didn't seem to notice me from where she was standing, but seeing her did remind me of the action in the canteen. Despite some of the things I’d heard about her, she really seemed to be stepping up her discipline game. As long as I wasn’t in physical danger again, I didn’t mind.

          I found myself wandering through the square, my shoes crunching on loose pebbles and asphalt with wet scrapes. I began to wonder just what to do with myself now; I had the rest of the afternoon, and the library was no longer an option for the time being.

          I thought of the robotics club, but with my sour mood, I couldn’t see myself spending much time around either of the guys, particularly Electronik; I didn’t want to brief him on what had just happened with Zhenya.

          There was also the music club, but as much as I was getting used to Miku, I could do without her overly-bubbly personality for at least a day or so.

          Maybe I could go find Slavya; sure, she was Zhenya’s roommate, but the idea of at least talking with her was a calming prospect.

          Despite the rain, I decided to make my way to the washing stands and clean myself up; the kissel was still rather sticky in my hair, and it was beginning to drive me nuts.

          As I neared the facilities, I spotted Lena, her back to me. She was calmly washing her hands, and didn’t react to my approach until I was mere feet away from her. She looked over her shoulder timidly, her shy green eyes fixating on me.

          “Hello, Lena.”

          The shy girl with purple hair turned toward me, delicately holding her hands together below her waist. “ _Zdrastvuyte,_ Brion." She was still very polite in her words.

          I stood next to her and turned on the tap, standing underneath the tin overhang that shielded the main row of spigots. For now it was a decent shelter from the storm.

          “How… how was your exam?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper and barely audible above the rain.

          I bit my lip for a moment. Not that I wasn’t prepared to discuss what had happened in the library, but I wasn’t sure if Lena was the person to confide in. Still, she looked rather disarming and, for the moment, open to a conversation. “It went swimmingly,” I told her, scooping up handfuls of water and vigorously scrubbing my hair.

          With my tone of voice, I felt like even that was slightly harsh-sounding, but it didn’t seem to affect her much. She nodded curtly, then handed me a fresh bar of soap resting nearby. “Would… you like this?”

          I nodded. “ _Spasibo_.” I attempted a smile, which was difficult under the circumstances.

          The soap was a big help in getting the gooey confection out of my hair. I made sure to be thorough, not caring if I got myself soaked; the rain had already taken care of that issue.

          When I was done, I turned the spigot off. Lena was still standing there, having not moved a muscle. I looked back up at her. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to be rude.”

          Her eyes widened briefly, and she waved a hand. “Oh, no, you weren’t. I was just… watching. I didn’t want to leave while you were talking.” Her eyes went to my collar, staying there for a few seconds. “You… may need a change of clothes, though.”

          I looked down. Indeed, she was right; the kissel had made its way down to my shirt, staining the fabric along with my neckerchief. Once again, thanks to Alisa, I was a mess. “I suppose so. Sorry to keep making you work.”

          She smiled. “Oh, it’s no worry. I’m glad to help you.” Lena picked up her raincoat and slid it over her shoulders. “Should we go, then?”

          I picked up my satchel, which had gone through almost the same hell as I’d been all day, and followed her as she quietly walked down the path toward Administration.

          Once we were out of the rain, Lena took her place behind the exchange window and handed me yet another long-sleeved shirt. “You can give me your old ones, if you’d like. I'll try to wash them.”

          I nodded, absent-mindedly removing my neckerchief and unbuttoning my ruined shirt. I got about halfway down when Lena’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth. “Oh my!” Her voice became even tinier than usual.

          “What?” I asked, coming to a stop.

          She appeared to shake a bit, cheeks turning red. “You... probably shouldn't do that here.”

          I wasn't exactly naked underneath my shirt, and yet Lena acted as though I were doing a striptease for her. “Oh. Sorry, should I...”

          She pointed to the end of the hall, which angled sharply to the left. “Around the corner would be fine,” she said, trying to smile again.

          Keeping in mind the boundless ways in which Lena could possibly be embarrassed, I went around the corner, where a barred door stood down another section of hallway, silent and foreboding. Wait, could this be...?

          It was. Taking a slight risk, I crept down this hallway and took a quick glance inside the room ahead, revealing the interior of the brig. It was relatively small, about the size of a cabin's interior, with two cots, a sink, and a chamber pot. There also seemed to be light coming in from outside, presumably from a window. With soulless white walls and plain concrete floor, it looked like a positively boring room to be stuck in.

          To the right side, Alisa sat alone on a cot, staring at the floor. She didn't react to me at all, just kept looking down, scratching the bottoms of her sandals on the tiles. I noticed that her uniform was orderly, as it should have been, her shirt tucked in and neckerchief in place; Olga must have jumped on her about it.

          Not having anything to do with her just yet, I pulled back until I couldn’t be seen, then took my shirt off, exchanging it for the one that was clean and dry. After buttoning it up and tucking it in, I made my way back to the exchange window, where Lena waited patiently.

          “Here you go,” I said, handing her my soiled garments.

          She took them gingerly, taking a quick, appreciative glance at me before turning away. I leaned over the counter and watched as Lena began to work, filling a tub with hot water and detergent, carefully laying my shirt flat on another countertop.

          Despite her demure nature, she seemed to be very industrious, setting to the task with skill and precision. While waiting for the water to reach a certain level, she removed my lapel pin and handed it to me, smiling at me faintly. She then set a scrubbing board into the tub and began to wash by hand, humming an unfamiliar tune to herself.

          I stood and watched, appreciating that along with her being hard-working, she wasn't hard on the eyes in the slightest. Like most of the girls I'd seen lately, she'd been blessed with curves that betrayed the Western notion of Soviets starving to death half the time.

            As I stood there, I noticed a folded-up newspaper resting next to the magazine that she'd been reading. I didn't know if it was the current, but out of curiosity I picked it up and searched for the date, finding it near the top of the front page: **22.июнь.1987.**

          Further reading revealed that this was a Monday paper, which meant that it was “officially” the 26th of June, 1987. It felt somewhat satisfying to have this little bit of information; not that it did me much good in the long run, but at least I had an idea of where – or when – I was. At this point in time, the actual “me” in the US was barely three years old, nowhere near cognizant of the world, either at large or right next to me.

          That being said, the idea of the US government—along with the Soviets—knowing that I was in this camp as a goodwill ambassador during the sunset of the Cold War was still a crazy concept. _Somewhere, somehow, someone is lying,_ I pondered. _There has to be much more to this... reality, this existence. Something!_

          If any of this really could be called reality, that is. I knew next to nothing about astrophysics, and had just barely scratched the surface of existentialism before ending up here, but the idea that there were alternate universes with differing timelines was not beyond my scope of belief.

          "Still, none of it answers the questions of _being,_ the eternal question of 'Why?'." I said aloud in my best Rod Serling voice.

          _“Hmnh?”_ Lena squeaked, not quite catching my sudden outburst.

          “Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Is this paper recent?”

          She nodded, stuttering slightly. “We only get the Monday issue, but it always arrives.”

          I nodded back. “I was just thinking out loud. Musing.”

          She continued to work, but kept her gaze at me over her shoulder. “Musing? About what?”

          “Well… do you believe in alternate realities? The unexplainable?”

          Lena stopped working for a second, again looking at me with a bit of a wary eye tinged with sadness. “It isn’t really encouraged here.”

          I was intrigued by her statement. "What isn't?"

          “Mystical thinking. It goes against the Leninist principles and state atheism.”

          I regretted the times in history classes where I simply didn’t pay attention; this was like brand-new information to me. Was there really a government movement against religion and mystical thinking? Obviously, this was one of many things separating America from the USSR.

          “Well, some of it is scientific theory,” I continued, knowing the shortcomings of my knowledge in the field. “Some believe that there are alternate universes or realities that exist in parallel to our own.”

          Lena chewed this over for a few seconds. “But it’s only theory, right?”

          “For lack of concrete evidence… yes. You’re right.”

          She continued to scrub away while keeping her eyes on me. “Well… it’s not that I don’t believe, or that it wouldn’t be nice if it were true,” she assured me. “It’s just not something I talk about much, except to Miku. She and her family are very spiritual.”

          “What about your family?” I asked.

          She pursed her lips a bit, then looked away, staring into the washtub as she continued to scrub. “I... need some time to work,” she stated calmly.

          I felt a little dejected, but I chose not to push the issue. Being that I had nowhere in particular to go with all this rain, I decided to have a little bit of fun.

          I wandered back down the hall, slowly approaching the brig. I did my best to not make a sound, carefully peering through the bars.

          At first I couldn't see Alisa. The cot that I'd seen her sitting on was empty. Had she escaped? Or maybe she was making use of the chamber pot...

          I didn't have time to feel disgusted at my own imagination, as she popped out from behind the wall, right in my face, a deranged look in her eyes. It looked like I was the hunted, rather than the hunter. “You...” she growled.

          Normally I'd avert my gaze, even walk away without a word; playing with fire wasn't exactly something I did with other people. Yet at the moment, my mood from the earlier crash-and-burn with Zhenya had left me feeling a bit reckless. Besides, even with Alisa's attitude, I could only be so bothered by her; she was behind bars, and I was never one to shy away from aggressive women. “I have a name, you know.”

          Her derangement settled back to simple moodiness. She wrapped her arms around herself, pouting. “I don't care. What are you here for, anyway? Come to laugh at my misfortune? Go away.”

          I frowned in response. “What makes you think I'd do that?” I asked.

          “ _Blyat..._ Ulyana's already been by. Got me so wound up because she takes your side. Camp leader came back and threatened to keep me in here until morning.” She mumbled under her breath.

          “Yeah, she'll do that,” I agreed. “I think she means well, though.”

          “Who, Ulyana or the camp leader?” she asked, staring at me with vigorous vitriol.

          “…never mind. Can I get you anything?”

          Alisa pressed her face into the bars and looked straight into my eyes, not amused. “ _Get_ me anything? We're at war, remember? Why are you even _talking_ to me? You should be making arrangements. _Final_ arrangements, get it?”

          “A war I didn't start,” I reminded her. “And besides, it looks boring as hell in there.”

          Her teeth ground together momentarily. “Want to do a good deed?” Her voice was low and punchy. “Go play hide-and-go-fuck-yourself. I'm busy.”

          She turned to shuffle away, and I felt my blood boil. Despite my earlier thought, I’d been having quite enough of being screwed with for one day, and I couldn’t let this girl continue to insult me from her vantage point.

          “Yeah,” I sighed sarcastically. “Busy being an uppity bitch.”

          She spun around on her heel. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

          “Wait, I'm sorry, hold on.” I turned my face to fake a sneeze. “ _Dva-Cheh!”_

          Alisa was fast, but not fast enough. Like an enraged tiger, her arms went through the bars, clawing at the air. I managed to backpedal just out of her reach.

          She gripped the bars hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The deranged look was back in her eyes, the fiery color that they normally possessed seeming to glow like the flames of hell. “When I get out of here, you're gonna die, hear me? I'm gonna make you fucking bleed! You must have a death wish; I’ll be happy to grant it!”

          For reasons truly unknown, this was more amusing than frightening to me. Seeing Alisa caged and enraged was surprisingly the best thing to happen to me all day. “Why make an enemy when you can make a friend?” I asked, smiling widely.

          She breathed out noisily like an enraged bull. “I don't need friends, and I _don't_ need your help. Just go away before I break this door down and _murder_ your face!”

          “I'm waiting,” I said in response, holding my arms open expectantly.

          Alisa powered herself away from the door in a huff, then picked up the stainless steel chamber pot and heaved it at the bars with the form of a master discus thrower. I was sincerely glad that it was empty, clanging loudly as it ricocheted off and rolled noisily across the floor. Even so, it was enough to make me back up even more with a stunned look on my face.

          “ _Haw!_ Wuss,” she remarked, seeming satisfied with herself. She then shouted, “Now, go be a good little boy and _fuck off!_ ”

          This could've continued, but it would've been completely useless, and it would only make our war truly official. Plus, for all I knew, Olga Dmitrievna could show up at any moment and lock me inside the brig with nowhere to run from Alisa, which wouldn't serve my health at all.

          I finally made the smart decision to walk away, back to the exchange window. Lena was peering out with concern in her eyes, and upon seeing me approach, shrunk back behind her counter.

          “Oh... is everything alright?” she asked, eyes slightly downturned. It was obvious that she'd heard all of that.

          “Yeah... it's fine. I guess I probably shouldn't have done that,” I replied, scratching my head. “I'm not really having the best of days.”

          Lena smiled faintly. “Did something happen with Zhenya?”

          I tried to hide my surprise, but I knew that was futile. “How'd you guess?”

          She seemed hesitant to answer at first. “People have been talking about you two ever since you arrived at the camp. Some say that the two of you would make a cute couple.”

          When I thought about it, her admission wasn't so hard to believe; Zhenya and I had been spending an awful lot of time together, and her feelings were well-known to me now. Of course, whether we’d be cute or not was not for me to understand.

          “Well... maybe. Things...” I began to explain.

          Lena waved her hands. “No, it's okay! You don't need to tell me if you don't want to.”

          “It's fine. It's just... complicated.”

          She stopped herself for a second, taking a breath, then gave a very quick nod. “Okay. Why is that?”

          I was about to answer her, but I took a moment. How could I discuss my issues with Lena, when I could hardly even explain them to Zhenya? “Let’s just say that she confessed something to me, and I… didn’t give her the answer that she’d hoped for.”

          A look of understanding drifted cross Lena’s face. “Oh… I see… but at least you didn’t try to keep her waiting in vain. You know…”

          It was something I knew all too well; most of my supposed former relationship was a practice in being strung along. “No. I would never do that.”

          Lena lips curved into a smile. It was a rather pretty one, in fact. “Good. I’m sure that she’ll forgive you once she’s had some time to think it over.”

          In honesty, I didn’t want to think about it. I had enough issues to deal with in the meantime; Zhenya could take as much time as she chose, for all I cared.

          Running out of things to say for the moment, I fished the American flag pin from my pocket and affixed it to its rightful place on my new shirt, then began to roll my sleeves back up. With all this heat and humidity, my entire uniform was becoming a pain to wear.

          “May I ask you a question?” Lena asked, her voice trembling ever-so-slightly.

          “Sure.”

          “About your country,” she stated, suddenly seeming serious. “Why do your people not like Soviets? Is there really going to be a war? Ever?”

          I wasn't sure how to answer her question. I had just barely missed the 80s, coming to cognition right before the Gulf War. The Cold War – the brink of nuclear war – was a foreign concept to me, as much as I’d heard about it after the fact. The World vs Soviet Russia, so it seemed. And of course, I knew what the eventual outcome would be...

          Then again, what if this were an alternate reality where things _didn't_ end the same way?

          “Well... I don't think anybody wants war,” I told her, doing my best to sound supportive instead of patronizing. “Because like they say, it'd probably be the last one, ever.”

          “Yes.” Her tone was rather flat, as though she'd thought of this numerous times herself.

          “People are just afraid of the unknown, or worse, afraid of something that might be very much like them. For the most part, being here hasn't been a bad experience. You people are good people.”

          “What about... Alisa?” she asked, with a slight nod and a mischievous smirk that seemed a bit out of character for her. 

          I shook my head. “She's colorful, but I wouldn’t call her a bad person.”

          Her expression faded a bit. “What makes you say that?”

          Her question was a little too direct for her nature, but I didn't think anything of it. “I don't know her. But I don't think anyone is truly bad, we just don't understand each other. And that's why things like the Cold War happen; we go from what we see, and not how things really are.”

          “Oh.” Lena seemed contemplative, while handing me a fresh neckerchief to tie. “Do you know Samantha Smith?”

          The name didn’t sound familiar to me at all. The way she asked, she sounded like someone important. “I can’t say I do…” I replied, throwing the garment around my neck.

          She looked a little surprised. “She was an ambassador, just like you. She came and visited Artek a few years ago.”

          I hated to lie to her, but I felt that my reputation was being put to the test. I artfully crafted my words into a convincing white lie. “Oh! I knew that. I thought you were asking if I knew her personally, but I’ve heard of her. I mean, of course I have.”

          She smiled then; my fib worked. “I was actually there that year, in fact. I got lucky; my parents were given a special pass for me to attend a term. I even got to meet her. She was really nice.”

          It seemed like an interesting tale. If anything, it gave me some insight on just who I was supposed to be. “I’d hope so. As for me, well… sometimes I can be unlikeable. I’m sure that you’ve seen.”

          Lena shook her head. “To be honest with you, no, I haven’t.” She paused for a few moments. “You seem nice. You were having a hard time with the language at first, but I can’t take offense. You’ve really improved, too.”

          Indeed, our entire conversation had been in Russian, not in English. It was becoming so common to my ears, I was hardly thinking about it. Lena’s personality had taken a quantum leap forward just from my being able to understand her unaided. “I had a very good teacher. Shame that she’s angry with me right now.”

          She shook her head once more, smiling at the same time. “She will be fine, Brion.” She seemed rather sure of this. “Zhenya can be hard to get along with. You’ve been around her long enough to know.”

          I nodded. “That I have. Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel at least a little guilty.”

          Thunder pounded for a second or two, punctuating our conversation. Lena wore a startled expression for a brief moment, then recomposed herself.

          “So, anything else about Samantha?” I asked.

          Lena smiled again; this was obviously a topic that she appreciated. “I didn’t speak with her very much, but in an article I read, she said that all of world’s leaders should exchange granddaughters for two weeks every year; that way nobody would want to attack each other on account of them being in the middle!”

          We shared a candid laugh. “I suppose there’s some logic in that,” I agreed. “Although to tell you the truth, I doubt anyone would spare any country for my sake. I don’t really think of myself as being particularly important.”

          Her expression hardened, her eyebrows arching slightly at my self-deprecating statement. “Why would you say something like that? I know it’s not… true.”

          “You think so? How?”

          She paused for a moment to compose herself. Her response was rather direct, more than I was expecting. “You have qualities that fit an ambassador. You work hard, you’re considerate, and you give everyone benefit of a doubt. I think those are important things, no matter the country.”

          I felt compelled to argue with her; as quoted many times over decades and decades of history, she didn’t know my life. All Lena had seen was what she’d managed to catch from less than a week of me existing in this time and place. I was a fish out of water, just learning to breathe.

          “Anyhow, if your country sent you here, I think they believe in you, despite what you think of yourself," she continued. "So you should… try. And you do. I see it.”

          I laughed; a guilty laugh, but I appreciated the sentiment. “I think you’re right. Thank you, Lena. I’m sure there’s hope in all of this. And if I don’t do my part, well… maybe Samantha can come back and carry the fire again.”

          Her expression changed to slightly troubled. “You… do know that she died, right? Plane crash a couple of years ago?”

 _Oops._ Close to getting caught, again. I scratched the back of my head, feeling like dirt for lying about something so serious. “Yeah… I meant… metaphorically. Her spirit can do what I can’t…”

          She nodded, smiling kindly. “Just do your best while you’re here. I believe in you.” Lena seemed very sure of herself now, almost playful in the way she was speaking to me. This was very unlike her, but it was a welcome change nonetheless.

          “I will. I promise,” I said, looking at my watch. The conversation was dragging on, and I wanted to leave on a good note with her. “I'd better get going. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

          Lena's mouth bent into a sweet smile that cut through my poor mood with ease. It was actually quite stunning. “It’s no problem at all,” she replied. “Please visit whenever you'd like.”

          I nodded. “I may take you up on that. Oh, one more thing… are there any raincoats left? After all this time getting dry…”

          Lena laughed. “I think I have a few.” She turned and walked to a cabinet at floor level. Inside was a small stack of raincoats much like the ones I'd seen the pioneers on the athletic field wearing. She took one, shook it off and came back to the counter. “Here. They're one-size. I hope you don't mind.”

          The forest-green raincoat looked large enough to sail a boat with, but I wasn't about to complain. It was sturdy in its construction, and would definitely help over nothing at all. “ _Spasibo_ ,” I said, taking it from her and pulling it over my shoulders. With the large, draping hood, I looked like some sort of bandit. “See you later?”

          “Of course!” she answered.

          Feeling much higher in spirits, I left the building, trying to decide how to spend the rest of my afternoon.


	10. Mother Heroine

          Outside, the storm had lightened, but it clearly was far from over. Random shafts of light probed along the ground here and there, but clouds were continuing to roll in from the southwest, over the lake, churning up like a witch’s brew.

          Drops of rain smacked noisily onto the hood of my raincoat as I wandered aimlessly back toward the square. I figured that I could at least drop my satchel back at my tent; it was becoming a burden to carry around all the belongings to my name.

          The tent… I’d forgotten all about the sleeping bag that I’d left out to dry!

 _"Nice going, bolvan."_ I could hear Zhenya’s mocking remarks in my head; these ones were well-deserved now.

          After making a trip to the south and tossing my drenched sleeping bag into the corner of my tent along with the satchel, the familiar fanfare over the loudspeakers beckoned: time for dinner. For once I had a head start, so I made my way to the canteen before most of the other pioneers, many of whom were still huddled in their cabins from the rain.

          It was easy to find a seat inside; the place was almost as empty as it had been during lunchtime, so I was free to sit where I chose and immediately began working on the mashed potatoes, green peas and two cutlets that I'd been given.

          As I sat alone, I watched as other pioneers entered and went about their business. Among them, Zhenya and Slavya entered together; not surprisingly, they each stole sideways glances at me before seating themselves as far away from me as possible. Zhenya understandably looked like she wanted to stab me with a fork; it sent my mood quickly spiraling from its high point after talking with Lena.

          Somehow I felt lucky when Ulyana appeared at my table holding a plate, her short stature failing to make her look anything but childlike. She sported a stylish tan raincoat, and her characteristic red pigtails dangled over her shoulders; never in my life had I seen such a thick head of red hair on a girl. The yellow bands holding them together looked like they’d burst at any second.

          “Hey, partner!” she greeted me gleefully.

          I tried not to glare a hole through her, but it was obvious that I could only manage a sarcastic sneer. “Sup.”

          “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeming confused as to why anyone in the world would ever feel less than peachy.

          “Grown-up things that you wouldn't understand, kid.” I countered, my facial muscles hurting from trying to hold a dry smile.

          “I understand plenty!” she said with a wink.

          I rolled my eyes, keeping up my sarcasm. “Sure you do.”

          Ulyana seated herself and quickly jumped into packing away her dinner, doing far more damage than I could in so little time. I guessed that a hummingbird like her needed plenty of fuel. She was actually making a bit of a mess, scattering peas everywhere.

          “Visited Alisa in the brig?” I asked.

          She nodded in between bites, talking with her mouth full. “I did! And guess what?” She paused for me to cue her, which I did, causing her to swallow her food and widen her deep blue eyes in a fantastic reveal: “She's really mad at you!”

          “Surprise, surprise.” I hadn't bothered to tell her about my more recent exchange with the strawberry-blonde merchant of fury. “You in on this 'war'?”

          “Whaddya think?” she asked, winking again.

          “Considering that you two are like peas in a pod, I think I’m more or less screwed, to be honest.”

          Ulyana frowned at me, fingers curled in a pose of frustration. “Oh, cheer up! You’re acting like someone sprinkled salt on your penis!”

          I nearly choked on my own spit. “…The hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” I asked, coughing, fighting in vain to keep tears from my eyes.

          “Whaddya _think?”_ She giggled fiendishly. “Exactly what it sounds like! I _told_ you I understand plenty.”

          There was no doubt about _that._ I didn’t even want to venture a guess as to who taught her about such things. “Okay, so you’ve made your point; you know filthy language. Congratulations.”

          She shot me another annoyed look. “Is it really so bad that you have to act like such a grouch? If somebody asked, I’d say that you’ve turned into the librarian! Stop acting like you’re in a butt!”

          Rather than choking again, I laughed, which seemed to be Ulyana’s goal, as she smiled immediately afterward. “Fine, you win.” I conceded. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” I went over her line again in my brain, and indeed, that was what she’d said. _“_ _V zádnitse”_ – literally “in a butt.”

          “See? It’s not so hard.” She reached over and grabbed a salt shaker, vigorously applying the seasoning to her meal before handing it to me.

          I gave the shaker a crooked glance as I thought back on her earlier comment. “I guess it’s not. Leave it to me to carry the world’s problems on my shoulders at times.”

          “Tell me about it. You remind me of someone I knew once; he acted like the world was ending all the time.”

          “By any chance, could it be your famed loverboy?” I asked, tilting an eyebrow.

          She looked back at me slyly. “Not telling.”

          The salt grains bouncing hollowly on my empty plate alerted me to the fact that my cutlets had gone missing. I knew for sure that I hadn't eaten a bit of them yet. What the hell?

          It was only as Ulyana was inexplicably chomping on a second cutlet, with two remaining that I realized what had happened. Taking my fork, I quickly stabbed one and dropped it onto my plate.

 _"Heeey!”_ she protested, “That's mine!”

          I shook my head. “Excuse me, 'Partner', but stealing from your friends is never nice.”

          “Why not? I do it all the time!” she said proudly. “No honor among thieves!”

          I had to hand it to Ulyana; her jovial spirit was unbreakable. I couldn't deny that I was developing an appreciation for the blue-eyed redhead. One day she'd lose her youthful energy, and then she’d be depressed like the rest of us.

          Well, hopefully not. “You're the only thief I know around here,” I told her, spinning my plate around to put the cutlet closer to me. “Alisa’s locked up, so all eyes are on _you_ now. No more scapegoats.”

          “I _said_ I didn't steal it!” she insisted, still smiling from her cheekbones. “You stole from _me!_ Maybe you're hiding it in that ugly jacket you're wearing!”

          I placed my hood over my head, making sure that it flared out epically to the sides. “ _A-nuuuu chiki bricki i v damki!”_ I quoted obnoxiously. I figured that if we were accusing each other of being bandits, we might as well look and act the part.

          She stuck out her tongue, then quickly snatched the cutlet off my plate with her bare hands and licked it aggressively. She then let it fall back onto my plate with a wet _‘flop’_ and grinned. “Still want it?” she asked.

          I thought about it for a moment. Normally I’d be repulsed, but then again… since when was I afraid of a girl’s spit? Besides, I couldn’t just let her win, so I grabbed my utensils and began to cut away, enjoying her rather surprised expression as I took a bite and chewed. “Thanks for the flavor.”

          At first she was without words, but then smiled. “I should invite you to dinner with my family sometime. You’d fit right in with everybody.”

          “I’d be honored,” I said, taking a cue from her and speaking with my mouth full. “With your parents, brothers, sisters… how many?”

          She nodded with an enormous sense of pride. “Twelve!”

          I couldn’t help but to picture a cramped dining room, filled wall-to wall with Ulyanas. The thought made me sweat; one was more than enough cheekiness. A visitor to the household wouldn’t stand a chance!

          We continued to converse as we ate. Without much prodding, I found that the camp’s fireball had a rather rich background; she was the youngest in her family, which made sense; she didn't strike me at all as the ignored middle-child or the tired eldest.

          Her father was a military engineer, dividing a good amount of time between home and work. Recently he’d come back home from the Afghan warfront, and was awaiting another assignment from the Kremlin.

          Her mother was the queen of the household, rearing Ulyana, her three brothers, and _nine_ sisters in a rather sizeable home located in a provincial town about an hour away from _Sovyonok_. She’d earned the honorary title of “Mother Heroine”, complete with a medal from the government for raising a large family, with all children surviving.

          At one point, Ulyana even whipped out a photo that she kept in a tiny wallet on her person. The entire clan was visible, the currently-present stuck front row, center while the rest of them—all red-headed and blue-eyed—were crowded onto what looked like the porch of the family home. In the back were the parents, sharing the same proud grin that ran in their children’s genes. All of the girls looked eerily like their mother, while the boys took after the father.

          After rattling off all the names of her siblings, as well as the types of things they were into—common, everyday things, for the most part—Ulyana homed in on me. “Do _you_ have a big family?” she asked, excitedly putting the photo away.

          “Me? Not really. I have... well, I _had_ an older sister,” I answered.

          She seemed perplexed by my response. Perhaps the idea of having only one sibling to contend with for dinner and attention from parents was as novel a concept to her as it was for me to hear of her large clan. “ _Had?_ What does that mean? Do you not talk to each other anymore?”

          I shrugged. “Something like that. I mean, we're not incredibly close to begin with, and now... well, it's just difficult.”

          She nodded. “I see. My oldest brother is like that; he hardly ever visits. That’s because he's grown up and has his own family. But I still _have_ him, so you still have your sister!”

          “I suppose, but… as I said, we’re not particularly close, and a lot of things have happened, part of it being that I’m here right now.”

          What I was saying was rather blatantly true, although I still had yet to make real heads or tails of my situation.

          “What about your parents?” she asked.

          “They’re still around. Mom takes care of the house, Dad is retired from monitoring air and weather.”

          She looked excited, bouncing in her seat. “ _Ooh!_ So was he working on secret weather experiments for the United States government? Like HAARP? _Eeeee!”_

          I laughed loudly. “No, nothing like that. In fact he’d probably think you were stupid if you asked him that.”

          Ulyana shot me a wink. “Well, we know who the stupid one is around here, don’t we?”

          If she kept this up, I’d have no teeth left to grind.

          She narrowed her eyes, no longer grinning but smiling with her lips. Her look was conspiratorial, as though a plan was being hatched between her ears as we spoke. “Well, hey! Now you have _me!_ Everyone looks at me like their kid sister around here!” she said reassuringly, changing the subject.

          I chuckled, taking a sip of kefir—fermented milk. My face twisted a bit; I hadn't developed a taste for the thick, sour beverage yet. “I can see why. But you know, that can backfire on you eventually.”

          “What do you mean?”

          I patted my upper lip with my napkin. “If everyone sees you as the kid sister, it's a bit hard to break out of that and be seen as... you. Heck, it even happened to _me_ for a while growing up, and it was just me and my sister.”

          She processed this for a moment. “Maybe. But I don't really mind that. You know what's sad? Alisa.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “How's that?”

          “She's all alone. She doesn’t have brothers or sisters. So, I make up for that by being her roommate!”

          Alisa's earlier statement went flying through my brain. “ _I don't need friends, and I don't need your help!”_

          I’d already drawn a bit of a conclusion about her, since I'd seen it in the past: Alisa's attitude was obviously compensating for a lack somewhere in her personal life. “What's she like?” I asked. “When she's not trying to kill me, that is.”

          Ulyana’s face beamed at my question. “She's so cool! She's just like a big sister would be, but better! She even let me borrow one of her favorite t-shirts!”

          I recalled my first day at camp; the Metallica shirt, _Master of Puppets..._ it didn't seem to suit a kid like Ulyana, but Alisa? Definitely. “Not quite what I meant,” I said, attempting to clarify. “I mean, that's good if she's nice to you, but what about others?”

          She shrugged. “I dunno. She can be mean to people, but usually it's for a good reason!”

          “So she's mean to _me_ for a good reason?”

          Another shrug was met with a grin. “I dunno! Maybe!”

          I gave up, exhaling heavily. “Okay, tell you what... I'm going to try to end the war between me and her. I don't know how, but I’ll think of something.”

          She looked conspiratorial again, smiling with eyes narrowed. “You're an ambassador, after all!”

          Maybe I was. Despite what people kept telling me, I didn't travel with that mindset, just did my best to blend in where I was able. Then again, maybe that was part of my purpose here—if there in fact was one: to stop blending in and stand out for once.

          “And what about you? Whose side are you on in all this?” I asked, pointing my fork at her. “Give me an actual answer this time.”

          She thought for a few moments, then pounded her little fist on the table, making all of the tableware jump. “For Switzerland!”

          “What?” I had to think about it for a second. “Oh, I get it...” In other words, she wasn't going to help, but she wasn't going to give me away, either. It wasn't a total loss.

          Dinner was soon over, and then it was time to head back out into the rain.

          “Hey, we should play football!” Ulyana exclaimed as I turned in the direction of my tent.

          “In the rain? Like this? Are you nuts?” I asked.

          She grinned. It was all fun and games with her. “It'll be fine! Idleness is the mother of all vices, you know! What are you, stupid _and_ lazy?”

          “Didn't we agree that you wouldn't call me ‘stupid’ anymore?”

          She didn’t answer, prancing off toward the athletic fields. I was reluctant to follow her, but I couldn't see myself running off, either. There was a whole lot of nothing left to do at my tent except sleep.

          The athletic fields were soaked, the cut green grass thick and dripping with rainwater. The football field had patchy coverage, a number of spots bare and rife with mud. Running lengthwise were several rows of brown wooden bleachers, which in themselves looked rather depressing and in need of some work.

          As we stood with the ball in the rain, I looked up rhetorically. “You sure about this?” I asked.

          Ulyana expertly rolled the ball up her foot and onto her knee, then bounced it back and forth from knee-to-knee. I was impressed—but then, ball sports weren’t my thing, so I was easily amused by her skills.

          She let the ball drop back down, and without so much as a pause, kicked it right over my shoulder in a brilliant arc. It bounced into the goal behind me, rattling the metal frame. “ _Opa!_ See, it's fine!” she insisted.

          “Well, what am I supposed to do?” I asked, grabbing the ball from the goal.

          She looked a bit exasperated. “Keep me from scoring, silly!”

          I passed the ball back to her and stood outside the goal, adopting a very wide stance with my legs.

          Ulyana stopped briefly, eyebrows arched. “What is _that?”_ she asked.

          “Sumo defense!” I replied, scuttling back and forth. I'll admit; I had no idea what on earth I was doing. I wasn’t taking this seriously at all.

          She rolled her eyes and powered the ball straight between my feet, hitting the bottom of my raincoat. Luckily, it actually stopped the ball! “No fair!” she called. “Interference!”

          I smiled slyly. “All's fair in love and war!”

          She seemed pleased that now I was at least trying to play with her. “Come on, Stupid! Try to score!”

          I left my goal and ran toward her, lightly kicking the ball. I had very little control, so the ball seemed to gravitate straight toward Ulyana, who immediately took command and ran past my defense, kicking it into my goal again. “Two-nil!” she announced.

          This one-on-one session went on for a while, the two of us splashing through the wet grass while the rain continued to fall. It took some practice, but eventually I started to not be so squirrely with my technique, even managing to keep the ball away from her on several occasions.

          Even so, the score easily went into the double-digits for her, while I only had one; I had the feeling that she handed that goal to me.

          Finally, I managed to chase the ball close to her goal, which was quite an accomplishment. With her superior speed, she was able to dart past me to play goalie, but the rain finally helped me out, causing her to slip and plant her face in the grass. After that, I gently toed the ball between the posts.

          “ _Ura!_ ” I shouted. “Fifteen-two!”

          Ulyana stood back up, clapping her hands. _“Ura!_ You're not as much of a loser anymore!” The ball now belonged to her, so I quickly ran after her while she kicked the ball through the grass, zig-zagging in an attempt to keep me from getting around her. I managed to pass her, but keeping track of her was still difficult; she could still run circles around me if she chose.

          As we neared my goal, I made an effort to sprint into position, just barely in time to knock the ball away with my forehead as it arced through the air.

          “Ooh, nice!” she stated.

          I was impressed myself. “Not bad for a... third-timer. I think.”

          “You've only played football three times?” she asked incredulously. “How is that?!”

          I shrugged. I'd played the odd round of basketball in my time, but nothing much beyond that. “Probably. I was never big on it. I'd usually get kicked in the ankles or have an attack.”

          She laughed villainously. “You need anti-loser training!”

          I stood with the ball under my foot. “Can you stop with all the name-calling? It's not very ladylike, you know. You're like a big kid when you do that.”

          Ulyana belligerently stomped her foot in the grass. “But I'm _not_ a kid! I'm a blossoming young lady of refinement!” she said with authority.

          I had to laugh at her ridiculous statement. “Well... act like it! And I'll try not to be a loser, deal?”

          She winked. “You can try, but you won't make it!”

          Feeling a bit miffed, I kicked the ball with all of my might, sending it careening past her. It bounced and bounced, finally coming to rest a mere meter away from her goal.

          I immediately began to sprint down the field. _This is it!_ I thought.

          I didn't know if I could pull it off, but all I had to do was overtake her and get in there! All that Ulyana could do was try to get into her goal before I could get into position to kick. It would take her too much time to take control of the ball herself.

          We both tore across the grass, running practically next to each other, hoofing it all the way. We got closer, closer...

          As lightning crashed overhead, I made a daring slide through the grass. Ulyana jumped and landed hard on the ground, just ahead of my feet, reaching out with both hands, but her efforts were in vain; I caught the ball with the heel of my foot, narrowly kicking the ball through her hands and straight into the net.

          Ecstatic, I jumped to my feet and howled at the top of my lungs like a wolf. _“Woooo!_ _YEAH!!!! I did it!!!”_

          Despite eating grass a second time, Ulyana sat up and grinned. “Fifteen-three. Not bad for a....” She stopped herself. “Oh, okay. Good one!”

          I helped her up, running high on excitement. I hadn't played ball in many years, but this was fun. I actually wanted to keep going, maybe get a few more goals in before calling it a day.

          Alas, the sun had all but disappeared due to the rain, and we were plunged into near darkness. “Game!” she called.

          I scratched my head. “Eh, fair enough. Good game. I tried, you happy?”

          She placed her hands on her hips. “You bet! Would've been better if you won, but at least you tried!”

          “Wait, you wanted me to win?”

          She shook her head. “No, I don't mean _that_ , I'm just saying... winning's the most important thing, which is what _I_ did!”

          I wanted to argue with her, but I felt that I'd done enough pep-talking for the day. I'd forgotten all about my lack of sleep, and now I was beginning to feel tiredness in spades.

          “So what now, Partner?” she asked, her energy a definite contrast to mine.

          I yawned. “Now I lay me down to sleep...”

          She shook her head, hands on her cheeks. “No! It's still early! We should hang out at the cabin!”

          “That might not be a good idea,” I told her. “After all, Alisa is probably back by now.”

          She gave me her patented look of consternation; hands upturned, fingers curled, frowning. “Well, how else are you going to end the war? You're a diplomat, you talk about things!”

          “Ambassador. I'm an ambassador, not a diplomat.”

          “It's the same thing!” she argued.

          “Actually, no, it’s not!”

          She supported her argument by sticking her tongue out at me. “ _Nyeeeh!”_

 _“_ Lady of refinement, huh? I think you’ve still got work to do.”

          “Whatever! Just come hang out for a bit. We could play cards, or something!”

          I grudgingly began to follow Ulyana back toward the south shore, to her cabin. “You have cards?” I asked.

          She seemed a bit unsure. “Sure, somewhere! We’ll just have to look for them!”

          I shrugged and continued to walk. I began to mull over what I would really do to smooth things over with her roommate; from our little talk earlier, I could see things going sour very quickly; I simply couldn't stop antagonizing her while she was locked in the brig. I doubted marching straight into her lair would go much better.

          To our surprise, there were no lights on in the cabin when we arrived, and we entered an empty room. Ulyana flipped the light on: a single bulb that flickered every once in a while. “She isn't back yet,” she observed, peeling off her wet raincoat and tossing it onto the floor. For the first time the girl looked slightly concerned.

          I gingerly picked up her coat and placed it on a hook by the door, where it belonged. “My guess: Olga Dmitrievna probably went to let her out, and Alisa gave her an earful. She might be in there overnight.”

          She sat down on her bed, the mattress lifting at both ends. “Maybe.”

          I took my coat off as well, setting it on an empty chair. “Does Alisa have any other friends she hangs out with? Maybe she's just out with them.”

          Ulyana thought about it. “Not really. She's usually on her own.”

          “A bit of a loner, huh?”

          Ulyana seemed adamant about defending the honor of her friend, a little vein popping on her forehead. “She's not a loser like you, if that's what you're saying. She's just... what's the word... non-dependent! Yeah, she's very non-dependent!”

          “Chill out, it was only a question. So there’s nowhere else that she’d be?”

          She began to go through her suitcase; probably to look for the promised deck of cards. “I don’t know. We’re not joined at the hip.”

          “By the way, that’s ‘independent’, not ‘non-dependent’.” It had taken a bit of doing mentally, but I was sure that she’d gotten the word wrong.

          “Whatever!” she threw her hands up nonchalantly and continued to scrounge through her things.

          I took a moment to look around the room, thinking of just what I’d say in the event that Alisa did come in; as much as I liked to think that our war would be settled through words alone, I couldn’t bet on it. It would probably pay to know what objects I could use to defend myself with.

          From under Alisa’s bed, a guitar’s neck and headstock could be seen. A closer look revealed that it was complete; the acoustic instrument was well-played, having seen better days. The rosewood fretboard was heavily lightened where it had been used the most. “This belong to your roommate?” I asked.

          “Sure does!” she replied. “She plays really well, too. Probably better than you!”

          I shot Ulyana an annoyed glare over my shoulder. “You haven’t even heard me play yet, kid. I’m pretty sure I could melt your face.”

          “And it would still look better than yours!” she countered, grinning.

          I sighed. “Back with the insults, I see.”

          She stood up, hands on her hips. “Well, hey, it’s not like I mean it seriously or anything. Quit taking it that way, silly.”

          I nodded. She was right; I was being a bit touchy about her little chiding remarks. “Fine. So where are the cards?”

          “I don’t know." She shrugged. "There are a lot of places they could be… you could help me look, you know!”

          “Going through a girl’s room isn’t exactly polite, even if I’ve been invited.”

          “Says who? Just look through my side of the room, I don’t care.”

          “Whatever you say.”

          I began to poke through the obvious places; under the bed, in the pockets of her suitcase, the table near the door. I wasn’t even going to attempt going through the sack of dirty laundry. I even suggested the little hideaway under the floorboards, but it was a no-go. Wherever the pack of cards had gone, they weren’t going to show up anytime soon.

          “That sucks,” I remarked as our search came to its end. We could both see that there was no progress to be made.

          “So what now?” she asked.

          “I don’t know. You have a radio, or something? Maybe we could listen to some tunes.”

          She nodded, pointing to a shelf above her bed, where a black portable radio, an Океан-209, rested. I attempted to pick it up, but the damn thing was heavy; way heavier than I would have expected of a simple radio. It was built like a tank. I clumsily set it back down.

          “What’s the matter? No muscle?” she asked with a wink.

          “Hush.” I turned it on, greeted with warm static through the speaker. Twisting the dials produced a variety of different noises until we finally caught a station playing music. It was akin to what I’d normally classify as elevator music, with some interesting tremolo-picked guitar; I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a balalaika.

          “Radio Moscow,” said Ulyana, listening quietly, which was a change.

          “You guys don’t have anything more… modern? Like… Huey Lewis? Or Bryan Adams?” I tried to remember some prominent artists from the 80s, ones who might have made their way to this corner of the world with their music.

          She shrugged. “Maybe. The stations don’t come through all the time out here.”

          We listened for a bit longer, but boredom quickly overtook the both of us. I decided to turn the radio off for the time being.

          “Kinda wondering when your roommate’s going to show back up,” I said, taking a seat on the bed opposite of hers.

          “Why?” asked Ulyana, playfully. She kicked off her mud-smeared boots and hugged her knees. “You that anxious to see her again?”

          I shook my head. “Not exactly. I just want to know what to say to her when I do. If I can get her to stop fighting with me, that’d be great. I’d like to actually enjoy the next month or so that I have here.”

          She thought about it for a few seconds, but didn't seem to have an answer for me. “Well… what should we do?”

          “I suppose... the first logical choice would be to check at the brig. I mean, there’s nothing stopping us, right? If she’s not there, she’s not there. I’d rather do that than sit here wondering.”

          She brightened up, jumping back into her boots. Looked like she was always up for an adventure. “Sounds fun! Lead the way, Partner!”

          We pulled our raincoats back on and returned to the rainy outdoors. We marched in relative silence all the way to the administration building, noting how the entire camp had seemed to go into a slumber already; nobody else was about, and there were lights on in most of the cabin windows.

          As we approached Administration from the bushes, we could see no lights on inside. It looked as though the place was closed up.

          Sure enough, a tug of the main door yielded no positive results; it was locked tight. “Well, that sucks,” I remarked.

          “She could still be in there!” Ulyana looked vainly through the glass of the front door.

          “Like I said, maybe she’s locked in for the night, or…”

          My cohort wasn’t listening; she’d already hopped down the front steps and was looking up toward the roof, the gears in her head turning. Then she rubbed her hands together. “Come on!”

          “Wait, hold on a second. What are you thinking about?” I asked.

          “I know a way that we can get inside!” she said, excitement in her voice.

          I looked thoughtful for a moment or two. “And then we’ll just find a way to bust her out of jail, right?”

          “Sure!”

          I waved my hands dismissively. “No, I was joking. How would we do that, anyway? Even if we get into the building, the brig is secure, remember?”

          “Well, maybe someone has the key! We could go _borrow_ it!” she suggested. The way she said “borrow” had a certain detectable connotation to it.

          “And who, exactly, would we 'borrow' a key from?” I asked. “Besides, won't Alisa get into even more trouble if she escapes? Why don’t we just ask Olga Dmitrievna what’s up?”

          Ulyana crossed her arms, a defiant tone in her voice. “You can ask Lena! Anyway, I don’t want to talk to camp leader unless I absolutely have to. She always finds stupid jobs for me to do!”

 _Probably because you keep breaking rules,_ I thought. “So you’d rather break into the one building you probably shouldn’t?” I didn’t like how this sounded one bit.

          “What’s the problem? We’ll just go in and out, nobody will have to know! Take the bull by the horns!”

          Her zest for life was quite obviously a bit on the warped side. “If I say no, you’ll find a way to do it _without_ me anyhow, right?”

          “Right!” she said with a wink. “So are you my partner or not?”

          I stepped closer to her, using my height to my advantage in an attempt to intimidate. “And what if I decide to tell on you?”

          “Then you’ll fight war on _two_ fronts, just like Hitler.” She didn’t falter at all. “Sure you want to take a risk? Alisa’s nothing compared to me. Are you allergic to centipedes?”

          “Um… I don’t think so…”

          She smiled smugly. “Wanna find out? I could arrange for a few to find you in your tent.”

          My skin began to crawl at this. She couldn’t possibly…

          “C’mon!” she insisted. “Just come with me, okay? Learn to have fun for once!"

          I was actually being peer-pressured by a freshman. This was ridiculous, but then again, I still had a shred of recklessness left in me from earlier. “Lead the way, then."

          I followed her around to the rear of the building, where a rickety water spout led to the roof. Ulyana stared at it with determination, and without wasting a second, she scurried up like a monkey, making it up to the rooftop in no time flat.

          “Hey!” I called as quietly as I could. “How am I supposed to get up there?”

          Her red head popped back over the edge of the roof. “Climb the pipe, dummy!”

          “Are you nuts? This thing isn't going to support me!”

          She rolled her eyes. “You didn't even try!”

          I sighed bitterly. Knowing my luck, I'd be eating the ground before I knew it. But... when in Rome...

          The water spout was made of iron, which was a good thing; however, it wasn't very secure. With every move I made, the pipe threatened to rip itself from the wall. Still, with a bit of determination, I was able to clumsily scrape my way up, higher and higher until I was finally on the roof, which was slick with rain water.

          “Told you!” Ulyana said, sticking her tongue out at me.

          “Fine, fine. So what now? Great view from up here.” I asked with heavy breath.

          Ulyana led me toward the center of the roof, where a ventilation turbine sat motionless, rather than spinning like the others. “We can get in through this!” she said.

          “Correction: _You_ can get in through this. There's no way I can fit through.” I took a closer look. I was nowhere near being considered tall, but I’d surely get stuck in those ducts.

          She winked. “Well, okay then! We need something to unscrew it, though. It looks like they tried to fix it since last time.” She shifted her voice, doing her best to sound like… an adult, I suppose. “ _Those damned kids think they can go wherever they choose to!”_

 _Last time?_ _She’s done this before?_

          I wondered what could be used as a tool; I briefly thought of the cybernetics club, but getting Electronik or Shurik involved with this adventure didn’t seem like an attractive prospect.

          I suddenly remembered that all this time, I'd been carrying my Utili-Key with no real purpose, other than to be prepared. _A Pioneer is always ready!_ I figured it was as good a tool as any without having to leave. “Okay, let me try with this,” I said, producing it from my pocket.

          “What’s that?” Ulyana asked.

          “An old friend. Just keep watch, okay?”

          “Nobody knows we’re here! We’re high up, anyway!” she said, still doing what I asked; she turned this way and that as I worked.

          It was nearly impossible to make out the screws in the dark, and getting a decent grip on the tool was a bitch, but... after a few tries, I was able to at least loosen the screws a bit, enough to spin them out by hand.

          Finally, with a stroke of luck, the turbine was up and off, showing the dark interior of a ventilation duct. “Ball’s in your court,” I informed her.

          She saluted proudly; a solid pioneer-like salute. “Leave it to me, Partner!”

          With that, her slim form dropped out of sight. I placed the turbine back where it belonged and waited.

_And waited..._

          The rain continued to fall, and I was glad to at least have the raincoat. Even so, staying crouched down on the rooftop in the dark was slightly creepy, to be honest. It felt like I was in a movie, and this was a scene where things would start going nuts; a ghost or some sort of entity would come out in the rain to attack me. After all, those sorts of things loved ventilation ducts, it seemed.

          I shook my head of such thoughts and continued to wait.

          Finally, after what seemed like half an hour, I heard thumping from underneath the turbine, so I lifted it away again.

          Ulyana's head popped back out, followed by her shoulders. “Alisa's still in the brig!” she wheezed.

          Reaching down, I helped to pull her out by the arms. “Well, isn't that what Olga Dmitrievna wanted?”

          “No, that's just it! Alisa was supposed to be let out after dinner, and she's still stuck in there! Everyone's gone!”

          This seemed a bit odd. Lena surely would've known the arrangements, or even had the key to the brig... Or not. Most likely, Olga Dmitrievna had completely forgotten about Alisa. That I could believe.

          “Um…” I tugged a little harder, but Ulyana wasn’t coming out of there. _Bliad…_ “You’re stuck?”

          Ulyana’s face went subtly red. “Sort of…?” She squirmed a bit, trying to push herself out of the duct.

          She wasn’t having much luck, so I bent down and wrapped my arms around her torso. “Don’t get any ideas.”

          “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her face an inch away from my ear.

          “On three, push with your legs. One, two… three!”

          I tugged with all of my might, and Ulyana popped out of the vent like a cork from a bottle. The shifting of weight sent me off of my feet, and much like the morning, I was going down, except this time I was underneath the girl. We both landed on the roof with a loud thud.

          _“Ow!”_ I grunted.

          Despite my complaint, Ulyana couldn’t help but giggle. “That was fun! Do it again.”

          I wasn’t particularly amused; not necessarily because of her comment, but because now she was lying on top of me with most of her weight; to make matters worse, her knee was all but completely up in my crotch. A familiar, icy-cold feeling was rushing up my spine, and my teeth were starting to clench.

          “What’s wrong?” she asked.

          “Could… you get up, please?”

          Something seemed to possess this little imp into grinning at me in our compromising position. “Why? Afraid of girls?”

          “No, it’s not that…” My gaze drifted downward.

          Ulyana looked down as well, and her face became as red as a strawberry. “Oh…” She quickly relented and found her way to her feet, allowing me to stand up.

          I took a few breaths, letting my pain subside. Staying upright was a challenge, but I managed to maintain my balance while waiting for my man-parts to end their mutiny.

          “So… what now?” she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets. Her eyes seemed to look everywhere but at me.

          “Well, now that we know about Alisa, we can just ask our camp leader to let her out. No big deal, right?”

          She nodded, seeming contemplative. “And I guess while you do that, I’ll wait for you to come back.”

          “I think I should deal with Alisa on my own.”

          She looked upset. “But we're a team!” Her eyes drooped a bit.

          I shook my head. “It’s better if you stay out of the crossfire. Her problem’s with me, and I want to keep it that way, okay?”

          Ulyana didn’t seem very convinced, but she wore a look of understated defeat. “If you say so.”

          I smiled appreciatively. “I’m thankful that you helped me this far, though. I’d hate to keep putting this off.”

          “Thinking like a diplomat,” she said with a wink. “Sounds good to me.”

          I had yet to figure out if she was confusing terms on purpose, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

          For now, it was time to get off the roof, which we did. Now that I’d gone through the initial shock of coming up, getting back down to ground was much easier; I landed on my feet in the muddy grass just behind Ulyana, none the worse for wear.  
  
          "So, hey..." she turned toward me, looking a bit worried. Her voice was hesistant and softer than I was used to. "I didn't really hurt you, did I?"

          "Hm? Well, a little, but I think I'll live. Might even have kids. Someday."

          She gave me her usual smile. "Hope so!"

          I chucked her lightly on the shoulder. "You planning on having some?"

          Ulyana stuck her tongue out. "Of course! Someday... I'll become Mother Heroine too, just wait!"

          The world was in for a rocky future if more kids like Ulyana were destined for it. Still, all things considered, she wasn't as bad as I'd made her out to be. "Sure you will. Maybe I'll even meet them one day."

          The girl's eyes went a bit glassy as she stared at me. The rain continued to fall, shrouding us in a peculiar moment of silence. She finally nodded. "You bet!"

          "Alright, little lady. Get going. Time for me to rescue your friend."  
  
          Acting a bit stunned by the impromptu title I'd given her, she turned and began to walk away, but threw a quick glance at me over her shoulder as she adjusted her hood. " _Do svidaniya!"_

          I watched her as she moved around the building, then shook my head. _Easy..._ I reminded myself. _I know who she reminds you of. Now's not the time..._


	11. Jailbreak!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambassador Brion puts an end to war... or does he?

          Once we split ways, I headed north toward Olga Dmitrievna’s cabin. I wasn't in much of a hurry, as I was busy bouncing a couple of ideas around in my head.

          If I went straight to the camp leader about this, it could mean trouble for Lena. That idea wasn't particularly attractive to me. With as fragile as the girl seemed to be, I didn’t want to be responsible for that.

          Further, there came the simple heart of the matter: How would I explain to the camp leader just how I knew that Alisa was still locked in the brig? Just the mention of this situation could make things turn out bad for everyone, not just Lena.

          I also considered the possibility of Ulyana making things up, fooling me into letting Alisa out early, which could mean even more trouble. How much could I really trust the little troublemaker after one day? Sure, we were currently getting along, but was I really willing to put my neck on the line for her roommate, who wasn't above getting heavy-handed with me?

          I suppose that, in the end, my heroic good-guy/idiot nature took over, as I found myself deviating and heading toward Lena and Miku’s cabin; I'd somehow caught the details of its location during one of Miku's speeches.

          A gentle light was present in the window of the modest-looking domicile; an arched hut that looked like half of a giant tin can. Over the rain I could hear a characteristic voice doing what I could only identify as vocal stretching. Either that, or something very, very lewd was occurring inside the semi-circular hut.

 _Please, let it be something lewd,_ I thought with a filthy grin. _  
_

          I knocked on the door, and after a few seconds it cracked open. Lena's shy green eyes peered out at me from the space between the door and its frame. “Brion?” she asked, recognition and surprise spreading across her face.

          Inside, the vocal exercises came to an abrupt stop. “Brion!” Miku exclaimed, at a near ear-splitting pitch.

          “ _Privet,”_ I said, clearing my throat. “Could I talk with you for a minute?”

          Lena paused, then nodded and opened the door, letting me in from the rain.

          I stepped into an immaculate cabin, clean from top to bottom. Unlike other camp dwellers, it looked like these two were very conscious of their clutter. The place was nearly spotless and smelled of fresh-smelling incense; truly a change from the usual.

          Over by what I assumed to be Miku's bed—flanked by a vase of Hydrangea flowers and several adorable stuffed kitty-cats—was a hot pink boombox blaring what I could only classify as early J-Pop. The sounds emanating from the device seemed to vaguely fit Miku's vocal routine.

          Lena's side of the room was very different; conservative and simple, with a number of books on mounted shelves. Her bed was very neatly made, as though it had never even been slept in. I got the impression that she didn’t spend much time by herself in here.

          Miku looked very happy to see me, dressed down in a long white t-shirt and teal short-shorts that showed off almost too much of her long, slender legs. “Hi! What are you doing out in the rain so late? Were you bored? Oh! Did you want to jam some more? That was so fun today, wasn't it? It's so nice to finally have somebody else in the camp who is interested in music!” As usual, a torrent of words began to spill forth from her mouth.

          “Actually,” I interrupted her as politely as I could, “I'm on official business.”

          “Official business?” Lena asked, a worried tone to her voice. Her body language became noticeably guarded, her hands clasping together, pulling her arms forward to conceal the front of the lacy white dressing gown she was wearing.

          I briefly considered lying, thinking of a way to not openly embarrass Lena in front of Miku. However, I was never a good liar; my face always betrayed me in that respect. “Lena, Alisa is still locked up in the brig. She was supposed to be let out after dinner.”

          She put a hand to her mouth, panic in her eyes. “Oh! I must have forgotten to let her out! Alisa is going to be furious with me!”

          I nodded. “Do you have the keys to Administration with you?”

          Shaking slightly with panic, Lena walked over to bed and opened a little wooden music box, producing three keys on a ring. Two of them looked generic, while the third was somewhat large and old-fashioned, made of iron. “What are you going to do with them?” she asked.

          “I'll let her out. She doesn't like me very much, so I'm used to... well, you know. It'll be better that way.”

          Lena looked even more shocked by this plan. “Are you sure?”

          I gave her another nod. “Positive. I'd rather that I take Alisa's wrath instead of you.”

          “What if she comes after me?” she asked, visibly trembling. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she does! She can be very mean and violent!”

          “I’ll be there,” I assured her. “If she gives you any problems, I’ll deal with her. Or I’ll let Olga Dmitrievna know. You don’t need to worry.”

          Lena still seemed uneasy, but most of her panic subsided. She slowly handed the keys over to me, clasping her hands once more.

          “Besides,” I added, “I don't want you to get in trouble. The less people who know about this little mistake, the better.”

          Lena smiled, exhaling with relief. “Thank you, Brion. That's very sweet of you.”

          I was caught off-guard; it seemed a bit much for Lena to say so, but then... she was rather sweet, herself…

          “I'll return these as soon as I'm done,” I said, my voice noticeably smaller than usual.

          “Oh, don't worry! I can have Slavya let me in to do my work. You can give them to me tomorrow.”

          While we were talking, I noticed Miku in the corner of my eye; she was watching us intently, as though a very interesting soap opera was unfolding right in front of her.

          “Well... okay. Thank you, Lena. Good night, you two.”

          They returned my pleasantry, and although Miku protested my departure, I made an escape back to walking in the heavy darkness.

          The rain seemed to let up for the time being, allowing several night birds to call out their lonesome nocturne from the trees. An owl hooted solemnly in the distance, and further out, the howl of a wolf echoed mournfully through the camp.

 _Man,_ I thought while trudging down the asphalt path, _what is with me?_ Indeed, I’d been getting slammed with conflicting emotions all day. On one hand, I was still in the middle of a troubled situation with Zhenya, and yet... here I was, apparently getting wrapped up in Lena, who was simply being herself. And even Ulyana… that was innocent enough, or so it seemed. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it, if there was anything at all. _  
_

          I shook my head. _You're tired, you're young, and you're horny. Stop getting ahead of yourself._ I repeated this mantra multiple times as I walked, closing my eyes and walking blind several times before arriving at the administration building.

          Now that I was alone, there was something very foreboding about Administration, which stood as a rather imposing structure among the trees at night. Unlike modern public facilities, it was near pitch-dark inside, uninviting. I wondered just how Ulyana had found her way around in the darkness without maiming herself.

 _Turn back._ I felt my instincts tug at me, forcing me to stop in my tracks. _Get out of here. There’s nothing worth going in there for. Leave the girl until morning._

          I shook my head. I was on a mission, damn it. This had to be done; if for no reason, then at least for my friend. Was she…? Yes, I supposed that Ulyana was my friend at this point. I was doing this for her. And maybe even for her roommate, who hated my guts. _Move your ass,_ I mumbled, _Get it done. Now is not the time to panic and wuss out._

          I climbed the steps, approached the wooden double doors and tried one of the keys. It didn’t fit; it was a small one, most likely for the Exchange. I pulled it back out and tried the next one; that did the trick, sliding into the lock without a problem. Turning the handle, I pulled the door open, greeted with a hollow creak. The entrance now enticed me inside like the waiting maw of a dormant monster.

          I've never been afraid of the dark; well, accurately, I was afraid of the dark as a child, but not as an adult. Over time I'd grown to adapt to darkness, to embrace it. As long as there was just a little light available to make out shapes—just so I wouldn't trip over something—I was fine.

          Not a few years prior, I'd become quite fond of exploring the surroundings of my desert home. There were plenty of gold rush-era remnants in the middle of nowhere; mine shafts, tunnels that went vertically and horizontally for hundreds of feet or more. I'd go out in the heat with a day pack and a map, making notes, as though I were some sort of wandering prospector.

          Most tunnels would be long blasted shut -- presumably to keep people like me from hurting themselves. However, some were in more remote areas, where someone must have figured that only an idiot --yours truly--would bother to find. These tunnels were more or less intact, and would travel deep into mountain faces, cutting off all GPS or cellular signals, plunging one into absolute blackness. Only a handful of people on earth would know or care about the true layout of such places.

          At those times, even someone as reckless as me would suddenly get a voice screaming in the back of his head: _Flee with your life, now. Do not ask questions._ And smartly, I would do so, leaving those mines unexplored, mocking me in my own brain later on. I'd vowed to go back one day, but never had the opportunity.

          Standing in the darkness of Administration, I was reminded of those times; the fear was as real then as it was at this very moment. And yet, I had every reason to continue with my task as I did to run. And really, thinking about it, running away now would only make things worse for me; I wouldn't be able to explain to Ulyana, Lena or Miku how I simply couldn't go through with this. I was right at the precipice, and this time I had a real goal. I was actually doing something for someone else; not traveling for my own amusement. And besides, this was a building made by human hands, above ground, in a regularly-populated area. There wasn't a lot of inherent danger to be wary of.

          Even so, there was something unmistakably unwelcoming about the place. I couldn't put my finger on it; was it all the Soviet imagery on the walls? Unfamiliarity? Lack of understanding? Latent fear of just why I was in this time in the first place?

          Perhaps it was the deafening silence; with the door closed behind me now, there was absolutely no sound in the building, save for my breathing, footsteps and the tinnitus I’d dealt with for decades. The air, thick with humidity, seemed to take on a physical form of its own. If I were claustrophobic, I would’ve been having an attack at that moment; the darkness seemed to wrap around me like a heavy blanket.

          I breathed in deeply and exhaled, dispelling my fear. Standing motionless in the office area, I looked at the hallway stretching before me, as I’d recognized it from earlier. I slowly made my way toward it, my feet sounding much larger than they were.

          Using my brain, I noticed a switch panel near the hallway. I tentatively reached out and flipped them all, hoping that I wasn’t accidentally setting off a fire alarm; that was the last thing I needed.

          Luck was on my side. The lights came on; rather dim incandescent bulbs that cast everything in a drab, depressing tone. I felt as though I'd wandered into a movie from the 70s... then I realized what decade this actually was. _Duh!_ The 80s weren’t much different, especially here!

          I made my down the hall, eventually passing the exchange’s closed roll-up window and turning the corner leading down to the brig. I prepared myself for two things: either a thorough earful, or the reveal of a clever prank—I still couldn't fully trust Ulyana to not be enacting a convoluted scheme!

          The barred door stood ahead of me at the end of the hall, just barely lit by the ceiling lamps. For some reason they were flickering in this part of the building. There was no light at all past that; fantastic conditions for whoever was being held here. I was reminded of the haunted house I’d worked for a few years—that place was rife with ambiance like this.

          _What a perfect setup,_ I thought. _This doesn't look sketchy as hell at all._

          I approached slowly, coming to a stop a few feet from the door. My throat was dry as I spoke. “Alisa?”

          There was no answer. No movement. I pulled the keys out of my pocket again, taking a look at the large iron one, which was cold in my hands. Reluctantly, I inserted it into the lock and turned it counter-clockwise. With a loud _clank,_ the lock disengaged, and I was able to push the door open.

          I carefully stepped inside, shrouded by darkness once more. I could hardly make out anything in the room, save for the dim outline of the window high up in the wall.

          “Alisa? Alisa!” I called again.

          There was sudden movement—a tortured, sporadic scuffling on the floor from ahead of me, making me recoil. Something about this screamed of all the horror movies that I'd watched over the years; one of my favorite pastimes. Now I was paying for all those hours watching films about hauntings, torture and gore.

          “Who.... who is that?!” Alisa's voice traveled from the darkness, wavering in its inflection.

          “It's Brion.”

          “...Who?”

          It occurred to me that I'd never really introduced myself to Alisa. Oddly enough, I guess there hadn't been many opportunities while she was trying to knock the crap out of me.

          I strained to see, my eyes slowly readjusting. On one of the cots, Alisa was curled up against the wall, knees against her chest and staring in my direction; not necessarily at me, but through me as though I were just as invisible as she was.

          “You?!? You!!!” Recognition spread across her face and she quickly jumped to her feet, rushing over to me. Still looking deranged, she was nowhere near being a welcome sight in the midst of all this darkness and foreboding. This was probably the best time to run.

          Even so, I wasn't alarmed by her in the slightest. Here was my supposed enemy, standing right in front of me in a dark cell, and I was no longer getting the innate signal to flee. Perhaps I was too tired, or I just didn’t care anymore.

          There was an obvious annoyance in her voice as she looked me up and down. “What are _you_ doing in here?” she asked.

          “I came to let you out. It looks like everyone forgot about you.”

          Alisa wrapped her arms around herself, looking rather guarded, which was unusual. “Ulyana didn't,” she mumbled, looking away.

          “No, she didn't,” I confirmed. “She asked me to help, so...”

          “Why?” She looked at me inquisitively.

          “Why what? Why’d I agree?”

          She nodded. “Yeah.”

          I paused. “Why not?”

          “Forget something? We're at war.”

          I sighed. “Again, I didn’t want the war, and I didn’t start it, either. Besides, it wouldn't be fair for you to be stuck here all night. It's... kinda creepy in here, don't you think?”

          Alisa cocked an eyebrow upward, her demeanor suddenly shifting to amused arrogance. “You scared?”

          “Not as scared as you, apparently.” I countered.

          She grinded her teeth. “I'm _not_ scared! This is nothing.”

          “Maybe I should go back to leaving you here all night, then,” I suggested, crossing my arms. To be honest, my unease was tripping my instinct to become a smartass. “It's pretty cozy in here, especially with all the ghosts about. I hear demonic possession is in style this time of year.”

          She stepped closer, nearly within range to bite my nose off. “Want me to throw the chamber pot at you again? I promise it's not empty this time!”

 _God, this girl is a freak._ I didn’t want to mention it, but there was a telltale smell in the brig that went with her statement. I cleared my thoughts and continued. “Look, I'm tired, and I came to help you, whether you want me to or not, so... stop arguing with me.” I said with a note of frustration. _  
_

          “Fine then. Let's go already.” Her voice was thick and pouty with disdain as she walked past me and through the door.

          Leaving the dark cell behind us, we made our way back through the office. After locking the doors, we walked side by side through the dark, muggy night.

          After a minute or two, she looked sharply in my direction. “Why are you following me?” she asked snippily.

          I shot a brief glare back at her. “I’m not following you. My tent is in the same direction as your cabin.”

          With a huff, she began to walk faster, getting a fair distance ahead of me within seconds. “Hey!” I barked.

          Alisa turned on her heel, hands balled into fists. “ _What?”_ she snapped, her eyes full of contempt. _  
_

          “We need to talk, so can you slow down?”

          She crossed her arms again, allowing me to catch up with her. Her eyes were unwavering as they attempted to burn a hole through my forehead. “So talk.”

          “We need to stop this... whatever it is. This 'war' between us. What good is it?” I tried vainly not to think of the Tom Jones song.

          We stood silently for a short time, Alisa processing what I'd just asked. Either I’d made a good point or she was trying to figure out just why I was bothering with her. She eventually waved a hand dismissively. “Why do you care? Just... let me do my thing. I'll probably forget all about it if you stay out of my way.”

          “Is that your official statement, or a shitty press release?” I asked, crossing my arms in a similar fashion to her.

          She looked confused. “I... what?”

          “Are you really gonna let it go, or what?” I asked, getting agitated, my voice raising.

          She shifted her weight, leaning back and looking at me curiously. “I might." She paused for a second to bite her lower lip and size me up. "You're pretty persistent. A bit of a smart-ass, too.”

          “To a fault, yes...”

          “Not to mention - You called me _Cyka,_ _Mudak!_ "

          “You were _being_ one!”

          I saw rage temporarily flare up in her eyes, but she settled down just as quickly. She bit her lip again, twisting the tip of one of her sandals into the moist earth. “Maybe I'll drop it if you give me a peace offering. What've you got?”

 _What've I got?_ I wondered with a frown. Why the hell would I give her anything? _She_ was the one at fault for all of our strife! If anything, I was the one deserving an offering of some sort. _  
_

          I decided to at least give it some thought; I could hear Ulyana in my head: _You didn’t even try!_

          At the moment, all I had was my watch, the Utili-Key, and the keys I'd been given to Administration; none of which were things that I was particularly willing to part with, but what else could I offer? I had nothing else of real value anywhere in this camp.

          The Utili-Key seemed like a decent choice. I pulled it from my pocket and showed it to her. “What the hell is that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

          I opened up the simple metal contraption. “It’s a tool. It’s a knife, a screwdriver, bottle opener...”

          “Can you pick locks with it?”

          “…Probably not.”

          She _tsked,_ voicing her dissatisfaction with my offering while shaking her head. “Ulyana's right; you _are_ pretty stupid.”

          Disappointed, I put the tool back in my pocket. Then again, that was one of the more useful things I had, so I wasn't too broken up about it.

          I had a feeling that Alisa wouldn't give two damns about my wristwatch, so out came the keys, which after studying for a moment, she eyed covetously. “That’s more like it!” A crooked smile lifted her cheeks.

          Out of the three, I held up the large iron key to the brig. “To the right person, this is a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card.”

          She tilted her head coyly. “Useful,” she agreed with a slight pause. “…But I want them all.”

          “All?” My hand squeezed the keys, making them ratchet together. “These belong to Lena, you know.”

          She chuckled, looking amused. “Let me guess, she probably said something like this…” She cleared her throat, and suddenly spoke with a polite, frail inflection that was near uncanny to Lena’s voice. “Oh no! I completely forgot about Alisa! She’ll be mad at me!” She trailed off at the end of her sentence, making the hairs on my neck stand up; except for certain words, it was a good impression. _Too_ good. Even her eyes  and posture seemed to mimic Lena’s timid nature.

          A bit shocked, I issued my response. “Yeah. What of it?”

          “Nothing you need to know. Just hand them over. I promise I won’t get you in trouble, and we’ll be as even as can be. Trust me.”

          Trusting Alisa was one of many things that I’d list under “Miracles and Impossibilities”, along with leprechauns and unicorns. Then again, I'd once felt the same way about anything Ulyana said, and we were actually getting along now.

          “And if I don't?” I asked.

          She winked and laughed. “Oh, come on. Why make an enemy when you can make a friend?” _  
_

_Clever girl,_ I thought. I considered her idea, then shook my head. “Nope. Sorry, not happening.”

          She cracked her knuckles, her expression turning from amused to predatory. “Well, enjoy a long war, then. Wanna go punch-for-punch right now? Whoever wins gets the keys!” She sounded as serious as heat stroke.

          "Hell no!" I quickly responded.

          Alisa laughed and raised her fists, moving a bit closer. "Come on, wimp! What's the matter, you scared? Wanna go home?"

          “You’re really going to make me hit a girl?” I instinctively took a step back, raising my hands only slightly to go on-guard.

          “Oh, what are you, a _pizda_?” she asked with a sneer.

          I was stunned for a moment. I’d heard that word before, but I was unclear of the meaning. “A what?”

          In a somewhat vulgar fashion, Alisa placed a hand right over her lady parts and gave a tug as though she were Michael Jackson. “I guess the little librarian didn’t teach you dirty words?” she laughed.

          “Certainly not _that,_ ” I informed her. In truth, I’d heard the word come up during my short lesson with Electronik and Shurik, but I’d blanked. “And no, I’m not a pussy. I just don’t hit women. That’s what pussies do.”

          She cackled mockingly, laughing with her whole body. “ _Hahaha!_ You totally are! Such a wussy little pussy boy, ass-sucking capitalist pig, wave your fucking flag…!”

          She proceeded to rattle off a long slew of obscenities that I won’t bother to repeat; to suffice, I’ll simply say that Alisa Dvachevskaya had the filthiest mouth I’d ever heard on a woman, which was really saying something.

          My blood began to boil as she became more and more belligerent and derogatory, tearing apart every aspect of myself, my life, my family, my country. The girl was like a machine gun firing wildly into the air, scattering casings, lead, and death.

          Finally a sentence flew from my mouth as though I were possessed. I wasn’t sure where it came from, but it felt natural as my eyes stared straight into hers and I squared off at her, my eyes watering from tension. _“_ _Zacroy svoy peesavati rot, Cyka!”_  


          Suddenly I remembered; I’d heard this phrase nights ago, being shouted at me and Zhenya while we stood outside my tent. Further, thinking back, it had to be Alisa who’d yelled it!

          “Ooh,” she mocked me, her expression making me feel several feet shorter than I was. “That all you got, _pidar?_ Cuss me out like a man, if you have the _yaitza_! Or are you gonna start crying like a little bitch? I can see tears in your eyes already.”

 _If you have the balls._ My brain was tired and translating slowly. There was no way I could keep up with her, but I let it fly. “Oh, _otsosi, potom prosi, yobanaya shlyukha."  
_

          Alisa grinned menacingly at me, shifting gears into deranged mode and grabbing my shirt by the collar. “Say that more time, _zjelob._ I’ll slap it on your headstone along with a used rubber.”

          I laughed, then swiftly brushed her hands away with my wrist. _“_ _Za cyun v shopu.”_ – Stick it up your ass.

          Her anger apparently at an all-time high, she wheeled back and punched me in the stomach; a pretty solid blow that collapsed my abs and knocked the wind right out of me.

          It took me only a second to regain my initiative, and my arm drew back and then forward, launching my hand straight across her face with devastating speed, the sharp sound cracking through the trees.

          In truth, this hadn’t been the first time I’d gotten into a battle of wits against a woman in my life, but at no time had I ever been pushed to getting physical. I'd slapped her hard enough to snap her head sideways, nearly throwing her off-balance. What the hell had gotten into me? Sure, she’d hit me first, but… it’s something you simply don’t do!

          Alisa held her cheek, which was turning a crimson red, her fiery eyes shaking and glimmering with tears as she stared at me with a look full of vile hatred. I wanted to apologize firsthand, but… what was I really to do? Nothing I could say at this point would change the fact. This was our war, plain and simple.

          Finally, the silence broke: “You gonna say sorry?” she asked, her voice crackling.

          I took a breath, trying in vain to rub the pain out of my stomach. “Should I?”

          Alisa crossed her arms, the red imprint of my hand on her face quite evident now. She still looked at me spitefully, but after a time there was a hint of guilt that floated oddly to the surface. “What do you think?”

          Something was very strange with this girl; it were as though she were constantly telling a joke, expecting the world to pick up on it. Her approach to life was from a very different direction than anyone else’s, that was for sure.

          I remembered our earlier encounter—it seemed that the last thing she wanted from me was an apology. To a fault, I was typically the one to take blame for things, to try and smooth things over, let people get away with bad behavior in order to be seen as the “good guy”.

          In ways, I could see the faultiness in that logic; people would walk all over me, or worse; they’d never learn the consequences of their actions, and I’d look weak. Maybe she was right in calling me a pussy. Maybe that was why I finally lost my mind and hit her. I was turning out to be anything but “good” anymore.

          I finally answered her, speaking plainly and looking her straight in the face. “No.”

          Alisa shrugged, turning away from me. “Fair enough.”

          She slowly continued to walk, and I stayed with her, our feet squishing in the mud as we trudged along. The night slowly seemed to resume, the night birds continuing to sing during this break in the storm. The whole camp smelled of fresh sap and moist soil, the rain having rejuvenated all natural things in its wake. In the distance, lightning lit the clouds, and the distant rumble of thunder gave warning of even more rain to follow.

          “So about you and Ulyana...” I asked in a weak attempt at making conversation.

          “I don't wanna talk anymore.” She quickly shut me down, catching a stray rock with her sandal and launching it into the foliage.

          I sighed. I was tired; dead tired, in fact. This had been the longest day that I'd had in the camp; so many things had happened since the previous night. Maybe it was best to keep silent from here on out, try to figure out what was happening to me.

          We passed the square, wandered silently down the path leading south, and eventually came to the split in the path that would lead us to our separate places of living. We both stopped, staring at each other for a few moments, then avoided each other’s gaze.

          “Well.” I blurted.

          “Well?” she asked in reply, a hand on her hip. She was looking at me with a little less attitude now. Why she hadn’t stormed off already was beyond me.

          Reluctantly, I reached into my pocket and removed the keys, separating the large iron one for the brig. “Here. Anyone asks, you found this, got it?”

          Alisa stared at the key that I held outstretched as though I were joking. “What… why? Trying to make up for what you did? Keep it, I don’t want it anymore.”

          I shook my head. “What’s done is done. I feel like shit for what I did, but I can’t say that I’m sorry. At least with this, I’m hoping that we won’t hate each other forever.”

          “So… you're asking for a truce, then?”

          I bit my lip and nodded.

          Her fingers delicately wrapped around the key and took it from my grasp, but she still didn’t seem sure of my action. “Wouldn’t you rather give this back to Lena? I’m sure she’d be thrilled with you. Then none of this would matter to you, would it?”

          “Why would you think that?” I asked. “That’s not how things work.”

          “So you say.”

          As much as I wanted to prod her for her true meanings, instinct told me to leave this one alone for now. “Whatever. Lena will understand. If she asks, I’ll just tell her I lost it. Take it, enjoy it, and maybe one day you’ll be letting me out of that cell too.”

          Alisa studied the key, holding it up as though I were handing her a fake, then smoothly slipped it into the pocket of her skirt, taking more of an authoritative stance.

          “Happy now?” I asked.

          Her mood seemed a little lifted, satisfaction a shadow on her face. “Getting there. I still feel like kicking your balls into your head, but I can give that some more thought.”

          “…Thanks.” I looked away for a moment, then back at her. “Those are definitely important to me.”

          Her lips curled into a subtle smile. “I’ll bet. To be fair, those insults you used weren't bad. You almost had me impressed, but you're certainly no _gopnik_.”

          I waved her off. “Thanks? It’s not really a skill I want to gloat about; ‘Yeah, I can totally cuss out a chick, I’m such a badass, _hurr’._ Give me a break.”

          Alisa laughed then. “That’s a good impression of yourself.”

          “Yeah, I try.”

          She took a look over her shoulder, glancing at her cabin before looking back at me. “I'm going, but maybe I should thank you, as well.”

          This was a surprise. “For what?”

          “For letting me out of the brig. You… you really didn’t have to do that. In fact, you probably shouldn’t have; after all, look what happened. We couldn't go for ten minutes without wanting to kill each other.”

          “Probably not,” I said in agreement. “I mostly did it for Ulyana. She was worried about you.”

          She smirked. “So you like her, now?”

          “Nothing funny,” I responded, a bit too quickly for my taste. “But yeah. She’s a good kid, for the most part.”

          She briefly studied me, eyes moving up and down. “Well, you’re the last one I'd think would come and get me. Ulyana mentioned having help, but she didn't say it was you, so again… thanks.”

          “You're welcome.” I thought for a few seconds. “You know, you did put me through hell today. A night in the brig would've been good for you,” I said with a weak laugh.

          My sass was met with a swift punch to my left arm, which made my muscles go completely numb. “Our ice is still thin,” she warned with a frown. “And Ulyana is okay with you, but that doesn't mean that I ever have to be. You're still a jerk.”

          “Yeah, well... you girls like that more often than you'll admit.”

          My quip was met with stunned silence. Maybe I was being too blunt, but Alisa didn’t try to deny it. Her eyes sank to the ground, then came back up to meet mine. “Whatever,” she finally said. She actually looked defeated.

          In the distance, thunder rolled, moving ever closer. It was a definite cue to get going. “Well, see you around,” I told her.

          She stared at me once more, and we shared another awkward silence. I began to wonder if we should’ve stayed enemies; it seemed like a natural reaction now. Being in each other’s presence without overt hostility was peculiar, to say the least.

          “ _Da_ ,” she said quietly. “See you around.”

          I only made it a few meters away before she whistled at me, pulling my attention abruptly back to her. “Hey.”

          I turned around to face her. “Yeah?”

          A devilish gleam was in her eyes as she asked me a question, mischief hidden in her voice. “Did you do what I suggested earlier?”

          I was a bit confused. We’d been fighting from my first day here, only becoming civil in the last ten minutes. What was she talking about?

          “I don’t know,” I replied with a shrug.

          “Really? You should know. After all, it’s you, all by yourself in that tent…”

          I thought hard about it, taking into account what she was saying at the moment. I finally made a connection, and I couldn’t help but to scowl. “You mean… oh, _come on!_ Why the hell would I do _that_ , especially when you’re the one telling me to do it?”

          Alisa let out a rip-roaring laugh. “Hey, a guy’s gotta do, right?” she said with a wink.

          “You know what? Maybe I will,” I countered. “And I’ll think of you the whole time!"

          Grinning, Alisa held up her fist, her thumb tucked between her index and middle fingers. “I knew it! Such a pervert! I’ll see you later.” She turned and marched off to her cabin, bounding up the steps and slamming the door behind her.

 _Talk about a mood swing,_ I thought. With another bang of thunder, I made tracks back to my tent just as incoming rain began to ripple the lake, moving in quickly to blanket the camp once more.

          I was glad to light up the lantern; even more so to get out of the raincoat and my uniform, stripping down to my t-shirt and boxers again. This had been one hell of a day, and sleep was quickly taking hold of me.

          As I lay back, wishing that my sleeping bag wasn’t still soggy, I glossed over most of the day’s events, quickly losing focus. I wanted to go over the big questions again; my purpose, what I’m really doing here, what it all meant…

          Such existentialist topics could bring much more accomplished academics to their knees, so I quickly abandoned the thought train as my eyes closed.

          I still had plenty of time to figure everything out. Until then, I had the night, the rain, and the rest of the summer…


	12. Teacher's Pet

          Despite not having a real bed, I slept like a baby that night; I’d run up quite a deficit. Not even the crashing of thunder overhead could pull me out of slumber this time.

          Considering the dream I had, I would’ve been grateful for some kind of respite.  
  
          I was back in that brig in administration, sitting on one of the cots. Those soulless walls, the tile floor, the single window glowing with the light of the moon…

          Every time I would blink my eyes, it was like changing the channel on an old television set. A burst of static would flash before me, and white noise would fill my ears. It was a choice of either this white noise or deafening silence as I sat alone, staring blankly at the cot where Alisa had burned away an entire afternoon.

          The door, with its raw iron bars, stood defiant and vigilant nearby. I turned my gaze to it with the eternal wish of any man who’d seen one side of it from a cell drifting through my mind: the wish to be on the _other_ side.

          However, the impenetrable darkness beyond seemed to quench this desire, rather than to feed it. There was no visible hallway beyond the bars. Nothing that my mind could recognize. The longer I stared at it, the more I felt at ease with staying right here where I was.

          I blinked again, clearing a burst of static. For a brief moment, I felt my skin tingle, every pore suddenly snapping to life. This tingling turned to sharp, stabbing pain. It felt like…

_It felt... like the morning I’d arrived here…_

          I remembered it vividly. Lying in the road in front of the gates to Sovyonok. The hangover from hell… Slavya, peering from the gates.

          Another flash. I was back… back in my bedroom at home, an all too familiar bottle on my desk.

 _And another…_ Making another lonely drive at night after helping to support my friend’s band, while he dozed in the passenger seat.

_And another… and another…_

          Scenes from my life flashed before my eyes, a backward marathon of mundanity. I found myself being transported, placed back into moment after moment, watching my friends disappear. Watching the hours tick away at every dead-end means that I’d found to sustain myself while fulling somebody else’s pockets.

          Of every cold, emotionless day in a store's back room.

          I was alone. Marooned. Every scene shared this unique fact. Through all of these moments of so-called strength, I faced every single one of them alone.

          And now I was here, in this cell, in a world that I knew didn’t belong to me. I’d never been here, never asked to be here. I wouldn’t have ever constructed it in my wildest fits of imagination.

          “What do you want from me?” I said aloud, to the vast nothingness.

          As to be expected from nothingness, I was given exactly that in return.

 _Truthfully… what do I want?_ I asked myself. _What is the goal here? This cannot be an accident._

          Yet another burst of static came, but no matter how much I changed the metaphorical channel now, I was confined to this one space. Yet another cell, like so many places in my life.

          I’d made myself comfortable in a box I’d constructed.

          I stood up and found myself at the door, hands wrapping around the cold, emotionless bars.

          I stared intently into the darkness, which was as thick as ink.

          Before I knew it, the sounds of my own screaming echoed endlessly off the walls. I shook the bars with all of my might, teeth gnashing as I cried out to whatever or whoever could possibly hear me.

          My family, my friends… even the ones I’d met here in this camp. I called out to all of them, asked for pity, asked for rescue.

          In the end, I gave my all, and my throat went from dry to bloody, burning like an open wound.

          No answer. Nothing came to meet me from beyond the door.

          Instead, I briefly sensed movement out of the corner of my eye, hovering over my left shoulder. I turned quickly to see a slender hand reaching out from behind me…

 _Morning._ My eyes immediately snapped open, and I took in a panicked, burning breath.

          I was back in that damned tent once more. As I rolled about on the ground, chest heaving, it took me a few seconds to realize just what had happened to me. _A nightmare._

          I reminded myself of this several times mentally, but neither my body nor the part of my brain that followed its own commands wanted to cooperate. I thrashed about like a black widow spider that had just met the business end of a barbeque lighter.

          After a minute, I began to calm down. I realized the futility of wriggling about, and as I took in one painful breath after another, I could feel a cold sweat dripping from my forehead. My body had gone through a major shock from this little experience.

          As I sat up, I heard the songs of morning birds, and realized that the rain had stopped, the storm breathing its last and granting the camp a sense of serenity that could be literally felt.

          Feeling like the embodiment of a wet rag, I hastily pulled my uniform on, grabbed my satchel and stepped outside, hoping that the air would be fresher and more tolerable than the enclosed space I’d been sleeping in.

          Save for a very faint breeze, it wasn’t much better in the soaked clearing. As I stepped out, I found my shoes sinking up to the tops of their soles; the clearing had officially turned into a mud pit overnight.

          I quickly made a scramble for the path, and was happy to finally stand on the rough asphalt. I took another breath of humid air, coughed, and looked down at my watch: it was a little past seven o’clock.

          “Feeling a bit of the early bird, are we?” I mumbled aloud to myself in a slight Cockney accent. To some, this was not early in the slightest. I assumed that at least Slavya would be up and about already.

          I went to the washing stands -- turned out that there were some located closer to the south shore -- brushed my teeth, ran some water over my face, and went through the basic routine of trying to wash myself up without causing a mess. What I wouldn't have given for a normal shower around there.

          _Look at it this way; you're not the only one not smelling like a daisy,_ I told myself.

          Once finished, I tossed my belongings back into my poor, dilapidated tent and returned to the path, standing in the shade while trying to formulate just what I'd do for the day.

          Some footsteps coming in my direction from the camp proper got my attention. As I looked up, the camp leader’s tall figure emerged from the overgrown grove that caressed the path, peering toward me as the morning sun shone through the tree branches and right in her face.

          “Brion! There you are,” she stated, as though she'd come specifically for me.

 _As opposed to???_ I wisely kept this wisecrack tucked away in my brain. “Good morning, ma’am.”

          She nodded, stopping in front of me. “Have you seen Slavya?”

          I shook my head. “I just woke up.”

          She looked about for a moment or two. “If you do, tell her… well, are you up to a task? Perhaps you could be of service.”

          I began to feel regret in getting caught like this, but what excuses did I have? It wasn’t like I’d been running the table on having choices around here. “Whatever it is, I’ll give it a try.”

          Olga seemed appreciative. “We’re screening a film tonight, if the weather allows us. Our stage could use some cleaning and preparation. How about lending a hand? With the two of us, it shouldn’t take very long.”

          Working along with the camp leader seemed to be a bit odd. I half-expected it to be me doing all the work while she lorded over me. I had no evidence, but it was rumored that the camp leader did very little physical work around the camp.

          On the other hand, it didn’t sound like a difficult task. Plus, out of everyone I’d met, I figured Olga to be the most likely to know about this camp and world at large; things that Zhenya hadn’t bothered to divulge. Maybe she even knew some things about _me_ that I didn’t.

          My hormone-ridden brain inserted a footnote at that moment, teasing me with a sarcastic, naughty voice. _I’ll bet she could, amirite? Eh?_

          Olga continued to stare at me, her expression slowly changing to that of confusion as I spaced out. I quickly snapped myself out of whatever perverted tangent I was embarking on. “No problem. I’d be happy to help.”

          She smiled and turned back toward the way she came. “That’s the spirit! Let’s get to it, then. No sense to waiting for tomorrow when there is today, right?”

          I somehow got the impression that she was trying to quote Thomas Jefferson. “That’s right.”

          We walked side by side down the path through the groves. Being next to a woman so tall, especially with her level of authority, made me feel a wave of self-consciousness which I decided to dispel with casual conversation. “Is there a lineup today?”

          “There is, after breakfast, which is later today,” she confirmed. “I’ve found that it’s best to give everyone a bit of a rest on mornings like this,” she replied.

          It was understandable. After Saturday morning cartoons lost their appeal to me as a kid, staying in bed became the most preferred commodity. “And this film… what is it?”

          “It was recently authorized for dispersion by the Komsomol; a film from the west, as a matter of fact. Restrictions on such things have begun to relax due to Glasnost.”

          I nodded. “The title?”

          “I honestly don’t know. The reel should be arriving this afternoon. We’ll find out then.”

 _Arriving, huh? Interesting._ “So where is this camp, specifically? I was told that we don’t get many people coming out here. Are we that remote?”

          Olga adjusted the brim on her Bermuda and looked at me cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

          “Just… wanting to know.”

          She seemed apprehensive, but answered as though having been asked this question a thousand times. “We are certainly off the beaten path, in order to give our pioneers a truly unique understanding of nature and individual responsibility toward the whole.”

          It sounded good, but my question about the camp’s location was left artfully untouched. “But where are we?”

          “Is that important to you?” Her tone of voice suggested that this was more of an answer than a question.

_Yeah, what are you gonna do? Run home?_

   
          As we walked through the square, we paused our conversation, continuing after taking the trail leading toward the library.

          “Well, let’s say that I wanted to travel a bit while I’m here. Would I be able to do that? What could I find to do out here?” I asked.

          “There are plenty of things to do right here in Sovyonok; I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that we have quite a lot of land to explore. One could get lost in the woods quite easily, in fact. It has happened before.”

          “I mean outside of the walls. Are there any towns nearby?”

          Olga looked to me for a moment, not particularly annoyed, but I could detect contempt in her eyes. “The nearest town of significance is well over an hour away by vehicle. We may make a trip or two out of the camp sometime during the term, but try not to be anxious for now. Everything you need is right here. I’m sure your government officials took that into account.”

          It felt like we’d truly gone back to the start of the week. We were back to the bare basics, but on top of that, I noticed that many of my questions were being dodged. This wasn’t a new occurrence at all, but it was no less unsettling.

          I decided to lie a little bit, hoping to gain information in a roundabout way. It worked the day before with Lena, so why not now? “Right, when they told me about this place, I figured they’d send me to Artek, or a large city, like Moscow.”

          Olga chuckled. “We are very far from either of those places.” Her statement almost sounded smug. “Why give you the same experience as others? It is an honor for both us and you.”

          We passed the library, and the camp leader turned things around, interrogating me for a change. “I understand that you had some trouble yesterday with one of the girls. Care to explain?”

 _Not really._ At least, that’s what I wanted to say. I tried to pick which one she’d meant. “Alisa? We’re over that, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

          “Oh?” she asked with surprise. “That’s interesting. She often has character ill-fitting of a model pioneer.”

          No surprise there. The pain in my gut was a strong memento of my short-lived war with Dva-Cheh. How long we could make that last would be the real test. “Well, I’m not exactly a model pioneer myself,” I admitted. “I wasn’t even a scout, so I suppose we were able to find a common ground.”

          Her face conveyed a sense of worry at my statement. “As long as the two of you keep your quarrels to yourselves, I don’t see a problem. However, I should warn you against following her example. If others began to model her dissidence, it would certainly unleash anarchy here.”

          These were rather strong words. I suppose they weren’t unmerited, but it seemed a bit too honest for an authority figure. “If Alisa is such a problem, why don’t you just kick her out of the camp?” I asked. It sounded a little mean to suggest it, but I couldn’t help wondering.

          “That’s not how things work around here, Brion. Pioneer camps are meant to educate the upcoming generations in the values of communism, in order to bring the people together as one solid, powerful working unit for the good of the State,” she lectured, hardly taking a breath. “Everyone should be included in that, regardless of their shortcomings.

          “Furthermore, she does contribute to the camp fairly regularly, so I don’t feel a need to abandon her just yet. Some guidance will do her a world of good.”

          Memory failed me then, but I knew that there was a lot of popular literature related to this very thing… _We just need to re-educate you. Sit in this chair and watch the images…_

          Olga shifted tracks. “What I meant to discuss was Zhenya. Apparently something happened between the two of you.”

          I remembered Zhenya’s warning about fraternizing with authority figures. Did she really want me to explain this little bit of drama? I cleared my throat. “Word sure moves quickly around here.”

          She nodded. “All the more reason to be mindful.”

          Our conversation developed a rather pregnant pause, as though she were waiting for me to go into detail. Venting always did me a world of good, but I couldn’t see anything prudent in griping to the camp leader about my personal problems just yet. “Nothing happened. It was just a misunderstanding.”

          “A misunderstanding that should still be addressed,” she pressed. “I understand that a young man like yourself cannot easily control your emotions or urges, but please take into consideration… that it would be unwise to involve yourself with members of the opposite sex in your time here.”

          I bit my tongue; not from wanting to say something I shouldn’t, but the topic was so outrageous to my ears, I couldn’t help feeling perturbed. “…You’re saying that I’ll get in trouble if I start dating a girl, or just hold hands with one?”

          Olga sighed. “No, that’s not at all what I mean. It would simply be unwise; you’ve done well to adjust in an extremely short time, but you are still... an outsider, for lack of a better term. And in a couple of months, you’ll likely be back home, leaving behind…”

          I knew what she was getting at, so I simply tuned her out, letting her sound like one of the grown-ups from Charlie Brown until a decent portion of silence arose.

          “It’s my issue to deal with,” I asserted. “Some lines got blurred between me and her, but we’ll work it out, same as I’ve done with everyone else.” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, ending my thought with a small pinch of supplication. “I’ll keep your guidance in mind, Olga Dmitrievna. It’s a valuable opinion.”

          She looked like she wanted to speak again, but instead swallowed her words and nodded, even smiled a bit. I supposed that I’d fulfilled her authoritarian desires for the meantime.

   
          Surrounded by tall trees which stood proudly and with incredibly lush leaves, the stage was built on one of the camp’s highest points. It was a barn; more like someone had chopped a barn in half and made it into a performance venue that looked both rickety and able to stand for a hundred years. The space was generous; the sheer size made some of the stages I’d been on in the past seem rather pathetic.

          Set back a good few meters were neat lines of wooden benches able to seat at least fifty, with a cleared section – lawn seating – at the very back. The grass was tall in many places; obviously the place had been neglected for quite a while.

          As we stood among the benches, Olga stretched her arms above her head, arching her back in a somewhat girlish fashion. I took a brief moment to survey her athletic, amply-equipped figure before concerning myself with looking anywhere else, just as she turned back around to me. _Lecture me about my urges as much as you want; I’ll still look at boobs, woman._

          “Right. Why don’t you take the stage while I start tidying up around here?” she asked. “There should be some tools around the back. Find me a rake, if you can.”

          I did as instructed, heading around the stage proper. Amidst some tall grass and weeds, I found a splintering wooden pushbroom, a garden hoe and a heavy iron rake – just what we needed. I grabbed everything and distributed the rake to the camp leader before stomping up the wooden stairs to the stage’s creaking wooden floor.

          It was far from unstable, but the wooden boards certainly gave the impression that the stage hadn’t been built with weight distribution in mind; every step I took sounded loud enough to wake everyone in camp.

          There were old, dead leaves lying everywhere; seasons had come and gone, leaving a mess. On top of that, there were puddles where the stage’s wooden roof had allowed rain water to seep through. Looking up, I could better see the stage lights, bunches of electrical cabling, and a huge bird’s nest right in the center of it all. Nature seemed determined to reclaim this outdoor venue for itself.

          With a sigh, I kicked a few leaves around with my feet before making use of the broom, doing my best to make a few organized piles.

          As I carried out the mundane task of sweeping, my mind drifted for a bit. Here I was, on a stage, cleaning it. It was a far cry from what I’d dreamt of doing; never mind that I was already in a place all but completely alien to me.

          My wish from my previous life came to mind strongly. I’d almost forgotten over the days how, more than anything else, I’d wanted to write a song that I was truly proud of, to be able to play it in front of an audience. To have that “all-star” experience, with a band that actually gave a damn and could push me to new lengths as a musician.

          I wanted to achieve something far beyond the classical oratorios that I’d performed numerous times on countless different stages. Those compositions were my craft, but my heart truly wanted me to be more like Pete Townshend.

          “ _I wanna rock… ROCK!”_ I sang to myself in a barely audible tone.

          Olga looked up from where she was clearing leaves on the ground. “Hm?” she asked. “Did you say something?”

          I shook my head, vainly trying to hide the fact that I was using my broom as a substitute for a guitar. “Nothing, just mumbling to myself...”

          She grinned gleefully; an expression better suited for a happy young woman, rather than a staunch authority figure. Could she really be both? “Well, careful not to do too much of that, or someone might call for the looney bin!”

          A joke. Cue my uninspired, cheesy laughter. The only thing remarkable about the joke was that she found herself so amusing. That was why the laugh she heard from me was almost too heavy for something so lame.

 _Careful, you’ll encourage her to tell more!_ I thought.

          As her laughter ended, she stared at me absently for a few seconds before continuing with her raking of the grass. From this distance, it was hard to really tell what that was about, but somehow I felt that I’d accidentally put myself on her radar.

_Ah, and just when I’d started getting used to this place, figured out a pattern. Now I’m going to be the “teacher’s pet.”_

_Well, hey, there’s a chance that could be fun._

          I finally recovered from this odd moment and continued shuffling as many wet leaves as I could, clearing the stage within twenty minutes or so.

          As I surveyed the piles and wondered how I’d get rid of them, I spotted Slavya, standing tall and graceful at the trail, her golden locks ablaze with the sunlight. She looked curiously at me, then at Olga. “Good morning. I didn’t expect you two to be up so early.”

          Olga regarded her second-in-command with a rather stern glare; at least, from up on the stage, it looked that way. “It’s nearly eight o’clock now.”

          Slavya looked surprised. “Oh, is it? Really? Wow, I must have lost track somewhere…”

          This wasn’t like her. Not that I’d been stalking her, but I’d seen plenty of the girl nearly running from place to place in camp, full of energy to the point of it almost being sickening. It was a rather rare quality to pull off: actually being nice without seeming patronizing.

          Now she didn’t look nearly as confident, almost sulking. The expression on her face shifted into embarrassment; was it that big a deal that she’d been a little late to get her marching orders?

          The camp leader erased this notion, perhaps deciding that peace was a better option. “Well, at any rate, we have a lot to do tonight to prepare for the film screening, so why don’t I hand this off to you, and I’ll go check on things elsewhere?”

          In my head, the alarm went off: _Confirmed, Olga’s fixing to bail!_

          Slavya smiled and nodded in agreement, taking the rake from the camp leader and picking up where she’d left off.

          After promising to check back in on us later, Olga made for the trail. Before she could disappear, Ulyana popped up in front of her, looking rather surprised that any of us were up here at all.

          “Well, there you are, Ulyana!” said the camp leader. “You’re just in time. Help Brion and Slavya… and what are you carrying in your hands, there?”

          _“Hm?”_ the girl seemed to think that flattening her hands against her stomach was the greatest way to hide whatever it was.

          “That, in your hands. What exactly are you up to _this_ time?”

          “Up to? Nothing but good, honest!” She brilliantly swept her hands behind her back.

          Olga’s answer was short, but chilling. “Let’s hope so.”

          And with that, she was gone. The camp leader made her smooth, stealthy escape, leaving us with Ulyana, who looked like she’d just seen a ghost. She dropped a rather excitable chipmunk that she’d been holding captive.

          “I don’t even want to know what you had in mind for that.” I teased.

          The Flame grinned, immediately recovering from her emotional trauma. “Nothing but good, remember?”

          It was going to take a lot of getting used to this much energy so early in the day. “No cartoons to watch this morning?” I asked. “You seem pretty anxious to get the day started.”

          “Of course! Can’t let the day waste. Sleep’s for suckers!” she declared. “Besides, there aren’t any broadcasts here!”

          “Figured as much. You guys don’t even have phones out here.”

          “It’s all just distraction anyway, isn’t it?” asked Slavya, taking a moment to stop her raking. “Shouldn’t we be getting more in touch with nature while we’re here? That is the main idea of having a camp out here like this, right?”

          “I guess,” answered Ulyana. “But plants can talk to each other through their roots, so at least _they_ have some sort of telephone system!”

_Wow, is this the bad joke competition today or what?_

          Slavya simply smiled. “Well… why don’t you help Brion so he can get rid of those leaves? Then you can help out down here.”

          Ulyana upended her palms, shrugged and headed toward me. I briefly caught Slavya’s gaze, but she seemed bound and determined to get the work done. Either that or she really wasn’t in the mood to talk to me, as much as I enjoyed hearing her true personality coming through her native tongue.

          My red-headed friend stood down below. “Hey, guess what?”

          “What?”

          “Nothing.” She smirked.

          I sighed; apparently the “lady of refinement” was still asleep at the moment. “Thanks for that,” I replied. “Want to grab that sack down there?”

          Down against the stage, at ground level, were several large burlap sacks that I’d found during my duties. They were about as tall as Ulyana herself once unfolded. As asked, she opened one up and waited.

          “Ready?” I asked.

          “Duh!” She was really saying “ _Da!”_ , but it felt better the other way around.

          I proceeded to push the leaves in with the broom. “So, excited for tonight?”

          Her eyes lit up. “We get to see a movie, right? Of course! But what is it?”

          “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Olga Dmitrievna doesn’t know either. She said the reel will arrive this afternoon.”

          “Really?” There was a hint of devilish mischief deep in Ulyana’s eyes, which chilled me.

          “…yes.”

          The girl laughed. “Well, good to know!”

          I shook my head; whatever was being cooked up in her brain, I preferred to stay out of it for the time being.

          “You will be there, right?” Slavya asked, looking up again. She was definitely looking at me this time.

          “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

          Slavya shrugged. “You’re usually early to bed, or you can’t be found,” she said, causing me to look down at Ulyana, who simply winked. “Everyone is required to attend official camp functions.”

          She was right. In contrast to my normal habit of sleeping just as the sun was coming up, I was hitting the sack almost as soon as it got dark.

          I nodded. “I’ll be there. I hear it’s a film from the west, too. Wouldn’t want to miss that.”

          “Wouldn’t you rather see Russian films?” she asked curiously.

          “Well, sure. I’ve only seen one… ‘ _Idi i smotri’._ ”

          Her eyebrows raised. “I’ve seen that one. It was quite popular and shocking when it was released.”

          “That was the one about the Partisans, right?” Ulyana asked, looking over her shoulder. “I thought it was cool!”

          Slavya looked rather annoyed at the young one’s carefree attitude. “There wasn’t anything ‘cool’ about it. It was very violent! My grandfather said that it was really that way, too. The Nazis looked at Russians and Slavs the same way that they looked at the Jews.”

          “I know that,” said Ulyana, unaffected by Slavya’s stern tone. “It was still a good movie. I thought it was very well done!”

          “Maybe so.” Slavya appeared slightly defeated then, and looked to me. “What did you think of it, Brion?”

          “Made me feel glad to be alive now instead of back then,” I replied, shoving more leaves into the sack. “I’m sure the Nazis would have a field day with me if all that were happening now; an American in a Soviet pioneer camp, with a Czech last name? Say goodbye.”

          “Bye!” Ulyana flashed a toothy grin and tittered afterward.

          My slight morbidity didn’t seem to offend Slavya, even after her previous outburst. She smiled. “Well, hopefully you’ll have a few more films to remember by the time you head home, then.”

_Home. What is that?_

_Is it really the place I left a week ago, when I was drunk and aimless?_

_Or is it someplace in this new existence, where the new millennium is still a distant dream away?_

          Ulyana cleared her throat. “Hey, come on. My arms are getting tired.”

          I nodded and continued to work, moving over to the next pile. Still, even as I swept away, my mind wouldn’t stop its own interrogation.

_What happens when it’s time to leave? Is there going to be a limousine with American flags pulling up in front of the camp? A van? A bus?_

_Or will I just wake up? What if there is no waking up? Have I figured out if this is a dream, or not?_   
  


          “Hey!” Ulyana yelped plaintively, backing away from me.

          Apparently I was spacing out and missing the sack altogether, getting the leaves all over her arms and in her face. “Oops… sorry, little lady.”

          “ _Grr!”_ she responded, shaking the leaves out of her hair. She didn’t seem genuinely mad, but I could see how she would be annoyed.

          “Don’t you hide in bushes half the time, anyway?” I asked. “This should be nothing.”

          She grinned. “Well, yeah, but that’s different! That’s like trying to drown a person and then asking, ‘What’s the matter, don’t you like drinking anyhow?’.”

          “Good point.”  
  


          With the stage clear, it was time to hop down and help Slavya with the ground detail.

          “What do we do with these leaves? I asked Ulyana.

          “Burn them, I suppose.” She replied thoughtfully. "We do that at home."

          Slavya shook her head. “We can use them for mulch later. They help keep the weeds from killing the flowers, too.”

          Of course they did. I’d worked at a hardware store with a garden section at one point; such knowledge should’ve been rudimentary. I nodded. “Will do.”

          Ulyana and I carried the sack behind the stage, then made our way back. “So did Alisa say anything to you last night?” I asked.

          This was met with a shrug. “Not really. She went to bed almost as soon as she got back. But she did say something about you being stupid.” She winked along with this.

          I thought back on our last conversation. “Yeah, well… sometimes stupid moves win the war.” I quoted a character from one of my earlier attempts at writing; a story that had never seen a release. Coincidentally, it was a line coming from the protagonist's redheaded second-in-command.

          “I could see that! Like ‘accidentally’ blowing up your komandant with a grenade!” This redhead seemed all to joyful with such a drastic statement.

          I nearly bit my tongue, especially since Slavya looked at the two of us curiously with this comment. “How’s that?” I asked.

          “Well, what if he keeps giving bad orders?” Ulyana continued. “And you’re the one person who could put an end to madness?”

          “I don’t think that’s a proper strategy.”

          “Hey, it’s true! Ask my dad, that sort of thing happens all the time in war.”

          “What, bad leadership, or guys blowing themselves up to stop it?”

          “Both!” It sounded more like the girl was just teasing me now. “After all, one man giving himself up for many would be better than the other way around!”

          Slavya looked up at us again, her face now showing deep-rooted sadness. “Could you two not talk about such things? It’s very depressing.”

          Ulyana and I looked at one another, feeling appropriately like we’d been caught sneaking cookies out of the jar. “Sure,” I responded. I grabbed the garden hoe, which had gone unused. “Sorry about that. Should we cut the grass down?”

          “It’s not really needed back here on the lawn,” Slavya was pleased in response to my apology. “Perhaps closer to the benches?”

          Ulyana nodded with this. “Feels better to sit on anyway. Those benches will give you splinters in the worst places!”

          I winced at the thought, then handed the hoe to her. “Alright, _Soldat_ , you’ve been drafted. Hit that grass, on the double.”

          She scrunched up her face as though to protest, but was cut off by the horns sounding for breakfast. Her toothy grin burst through instead. “Saved by the bell!” she proclaimed proudly.

          “After breakfast, then.”

          “We have lineup after breakfast! Besides, who died and made you _komandant_?”

          Slavya set her rake aside. “Ulyana, don’t complain. We’ll be right back to help you when the lineup is over,” she said with her usual pleasantness.

          The young redhead shrugged, torquing her chin ever so slightly. “Can’t be helped, I guess.”  
  


          Not seeming keen to hang around her most recent taskmaster, Ulyana ran ahead of us to beat the others to the canteen. I walked along with Slavya.

          “So, um…” I found myself at a slight loss for words.

          “Zhenya is extremely angry at you.” Her words hit me like a load of bricks. I paused, for some reason nearly shutting off inside by the flatness in her tone.

          I managed to speak after a few particularly dry moments and a slight sideways look from her. “Do you dislike me now because of that?”

          “Are you trying to say that it happened exactly the way that she said? You admit to everything, just like that?” She looked very perplexed.

          “Well, I’m sure that she might have exaggerated, but… she’s your friend, Slavya. I’m not going to ask to come between you two. I’m just a visitor here, remember?”

          This really seemed to upset her. “How can you say something like that about yourself? You’re just as important here as you are anywhere else.”

          “Well then, answer my question, and we can go from there. I’d really prefer it that way.”

          She was silent for a good minute or so as we continued to walk. This trip was taking quite a while.

          “I don’t see why your problem with her should affect our friendship.” She finally said.

 _Friend?_ Already, so soon? The dreaded “F-word”?

_Roll with it already, she’s not mad._

          “Damn straight.”

          Slavya seemed slightly shocked by my rough language, but recovered quickly. “Good, then. We probably should keep away from one another today, though. I don’t want to upset her.”

          This conspiratorial talk seemed rather heavy for someone like her. Then again, I’d only begun to really know her within the last hour. “I get it. So…”

          “See you tonight?” she continued, helping the conversation to its close just as we got within earshot of the canteen.

          “Yes, definitely.”

          She calmly quickened her stride away from me, and I was left with getting caught at the very end of the line. By the time I got inside, the only open seat was a lonely one in the corner, with at least a window to gaze out of.

          Nevertheless I was able to get my brain settled enough to finish quickly with the meal and stand in the heat for this morning's lineup.


	13. The Day Before

          Now that I operated without a handler to speak of, I found that most of the other pioneers here seemed to keep their collective distance from the foreigner. I supposed that there was only so much to be curious about when it came to someone like me. I already had drawn my own little crowd, anyhow.

          As Olga Dmitrievna stood in front of us all, dictations flying forth with theatrical accuracy, I found myself in a shielded daze; other than tonight’s movie screening, there wasn’t a lot of new information to go over; _  
  
          Follow the principles of a good pioneer. Help out around the camp. We’re taking a hike next week. Join a club if you haven’t._ _Be mindful of the younger ones._

          With all of this, the camp leader was set on proselytizing to her fullest extent before having the Red flag raised once more; it’d been taken down due to the recent rains.

          “Do not forget, attendance at tonight’s event is absolutely mandatory!” Olga sternly commanded as our grouping broke apart.

          With pioneers scattering in every direction, I was left with Lena, who approached me shyly. I caught a glimpse of Slavya: she was dragging a rather protestant Ulyana in the direction of the stage.

          “Good morning, Lena. How are you?” I asked.

          She smiled pleasantly. “I… I’m fine, thank you.” She joined her hands together and looked at them bashfully. “Um… could I get those keys from you? I wasn’t able to get into the exchange this morning.”

          I nodded, reaching to pull them from my pocket. “Couldn’t find Slavya?”

          “No.”

          Her story went along with our camp leader’s account. Just what had Slavya been up to so early? Likely out running, as per usual, but… this was the first time I’d heard any kind of grumbling about her absence.

          I handed the keys over, visibly lacking the one to the brig. Lena stared at the ring rather cautiously. “What happened?”

          I bit my lip and did my best act of meekness, relaying my pre-chosen answer. “I was… tossing them to myself this morning, and the key to the brig went flying off.” I spouted. “I’m really sorry.”

_Damn right, you’re sorry. That excuse sounds terrible!_

          Lena nodded slightly and took the keys from me, worry on her delicate face. “Do you think it can be found? I’m sure that I’ll get…”

          “There you are, Pioneer.” I turned to see Violetta pacing rather purposefully toward the two of us.

          Lena faltered, her face registering even more bashfulness as she quickly took the keys from my grasp. Before I knew it she was practically fleeing, moving quickly toward the administration building and away from the woman of much stronger character.

          Now I was alone with the nurse, who regarded me with a smoldering gaze. How she could possibly survive out in this heat with a full medical exam coat was beyond me.

 _“Dobroye utro…”_ I stammered.

          She was amused. “Nice try, young man. You weren’t thinking of skipping out on your regimen today, were you?”

          Her smooth, accented English was still to die for.

          I shook my head. “No, never. I’ve just been helping Olga Dmitrievna.”

          “Good. Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping me straighten a few things in the infirmary beforehand? I am expecting a shipment of supplies this afternoon.” She paused to gracefully push back a few loose strands of hair.

          At first I thought of making an excuse, but nothing came to mind. I’d used up my quota of lame white lies for the day, if not the week already.

          Plus, I had no particular reason to run from the nurse. If anything, I’d had fleeting thoughts of feigning some sort of injury just so I could visit the infirmary – although she’d already invited me to visit her for any reason.

          Seeing that Olga Dmitrievna had already disappeared to places unknown, I nodded. “I’ll be glad to.”

          We were soon indoors, and while Violetta began to go down the list of different medications and supplies needing labeling and storage, I took another look around the infirmary.

          For what it was worth, the camp seemed rather well-equipped to handle the usual injuries that could befall a pioneer. There were plenty of diagnostic instruments stored away, and it was obvious that our nurse had much more training under her belt than the typical RN. Without an assistant around, she definitely had to be on her game.

          In one corner of the room, humming away, was a small chest-sized freezer. A label on the side confirmed my guess at its contents: blood. Amongst that, there were vaccines; tetanus, diphtheria, smallpox… _freakin’ smallpox??_

          As I ran my hand along the top, gazing intently at the inscriptions, the nurse noticed my curiosity and calmly took a seat right on top of the freezer, a smile on her face, her thighs not an inch away from my fingers. “Are you in need of injections, _Bello_? Feeling sick?”

          Oh, how I wanted to turn that back around on her. _Injections…_

          “Er… no, I was just looking.” I gazed into her eyes, feeling rather small; I began to sympathize with Lena’s speedy disappearance.

          “I should have you know: I’ve read your file.” She leaned slightly toward me, giving me a bit of a show. “You haven’t been a good boy. Your immunizations are not up to date.”

          Oddly enough, she sounded like a character that I’d played at the local haunted house on a number of occasions; Doktor Edward von Schmerzenhaus -- literally translated as “Painhouse” – would lunge at people with a hypodermic needle, wearing goggles and full protective gear, rattling on about them needing their immunizations.

          “Really?” I paused. “But they’d have to be, in order for me to travel like I do.” I answered, reinforcing my own mythical background.

          She stared back at me solidly, smiling ever so slightly. “Have a seat on the bed, then. I’ll attend to your needs without delay.”

          The way that she said this, with a pouting tone on “without delay” made my spine tingle. I’d forgotten just how this woman was with words. “Ah, I…”

 _“Syadtye.”_ Her voice was suddenly rather commanding, although her expression hadn’t changed. She was like stone.

          “ _Da, mem._ ” I backed away from her and made my way to the single bed, doing as I was told.

          With satisfaction on her face, she stood up from the freezer, turned and smoothly unlocked it. “Let’s go with… diphtheria… tetanus... influenza. For starters.”

          She then took out a vial or two and came back to me, setting the glass bottles down on a nearby exam tray with hollow metallic clicks. I stared at them with concentrated contempt.

 _Damn it,_ what had I gotten myself into now? Was this her original aim all along? To make me into a pin cushion for the day?

          An expert with her keys, the nurse quickly went to the proper cabinets and took everything that she needed: gauze, tape, cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and a tourniquet. She placed them alongside the vials, then looked at me, hands on her hips.

          “Now then, which would you enjoy first?” she asked.

          “Er… is this really necessary?” I did my best to not sound completely frightened out of my wits, but I was failing.

          “Of course. Do you think that I would lie?” She looked to the table, then to another locked cabinet. “Ah, I almost forgot…” She fished for her keys once more, then moved away from me.

          The door quickly beckoned to me. _Escape!_ It was the best option I could come up with. Sure, I’d incur her wrath later, but at least I wouldn’t get the dreaded poke!

          I practically jumped from the bed, making it to the door in a few quick strides. My hand immediately twisted the knob, but…

 _Locked._ I tried the deadbolt, but the door still wouldn’t budge. It suddenly dawned on me: I was trapped. She’d locked us in on purpose!

          Teasingly, I heard her over my shoulder, shaking the keys at me. “Going somewhere?” she asked, her stare slightly cold now, eyes narrowing.

          “I… um… have something to do. Maybe another time we could… I mean…”

          My flimsy attempts at talking her down were of no use. She simply smiled and daintily opened up a tiny steel case she’d procured from the cabinet. Inside was an old-fashioned glass hypodermic, which she twisted a needle point onto with careful fingers.

          I had nowhere to go. I felt panic building deep in my stomach. This was _not_ how I wanted this day to go – or any day, for that matter!

          And yet here I was, at the mercy of a crazy, yet attractive Soviet nurse who aimed to fill me with pharmaceuticals!

          “Come back to the bed, _Bello,”_ she said with a small hint of sweetness. “If you’re a good boy, you may get a sucker afterward.”

          My brain nearly short-circuited, and I had to make sure several times that she said what I _thought_ she said.

          “Sit down. Now.” Gone was the pleasing Italian-accented English, replaced by Russian in a rather intimidating tone from her. “Or should I come and get you myself?”

          I froze. She wouldn’t really try to _force_ me, would she? Then again… we’d been around each other long enough for me to know: _Of course she would!_

          “Very well.” My voice was shaky. “Let’s get it over with.”

          I came back over to the bed and sat down. “I promise not to make you hurt… at least, not for long.” She said with a wink.

          I wasn’t comforted much. With her gloved, delicate hands rolling my sleeve up as high as it could go, I was soon at her mercy. I understood both sides of the classic “naughty nurse” routine.

_She’ll make your heart beat, but can also remove it._

_She can also take your temperature, although your sweating is enough proof._

   
          I kept on with mentally spouting cool little catch phrases to distract myself. My language would season itself along with the pain as she had her way with me, and not in the way that I’d prefer.  
  
          After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally patched up with a bandage around my left arm and another taped right to my butt cheek – yeah, she really went that far.

          “Were I not confident in your performance, I’d offer you a steroid injection or two,” she said sweetly.

          I briskly shook my head. “I would definitely appreciate not getting those. Dealt with that junk enough as a kid.”

          “Nephrotic Syndrome, correct?”

          I answered with a nod. From age five to twelve, I’d gotten heavily acquainted with Prednisone due to my kidneys wanting to fail on me. I could rarely eat anything salty, would gain immense amounts of water weight, and dealt with obesity from the drugs causing me to eat everything in sight provided that it wasn’t laden in sodium.

          On top of that, the side effects of mood swings and a Skeletor-like appearance in my face made me thoroughly wary of steroids for the rest of my life.

          “You need not worry, _Bello._ And please, you may call me Viola. I normally have all of the others do so as well. Now that we’ve gotten so well-acquainted, it’s only right.”

          “As you wish.” I sighed. “Still looking to have that conversation in Russian?”

          She smiled. “In truth, I’d prefer to keep with my English with you. I rarely get the opportunity. However, I am glad to see that you have adjusted so quickly to life here.”

          “I wouldn’t go that far. Seems that every time I turn around, I’m at the center of a crisis.”  
  
          Her eyes were rather sympathetic. "I am sorry to hear of what happened between you and the librarian, Brion. It surely isn't the end of the world."

          "That's not really... what I'm concerned about," I replied. In truth, I was more concerned about Lena and her blasted keys. "At any rate, I only feel bad because I hurt her. She's not the only one, either. I try not to hurt people, and yet it just happens that way."

          She took her gloves off, then very slowly removed the keys to the door from her pocket. “As the rest of us have to learn, so will she. Hurting people and being hurt... it is the simple way of things.” Her voice had a somber tone to it as she walked calmly to the door and unlocked it. She then turned back to me, our counseling session apparently over. “Now, about the business at hand…”

          My freedom was hard-earned, but after about an hour, the infirmary was set into proper order.

          With a somewhat bland-tasting sucker in my mouth, I eventually stepped out into the hot summer sun, the humidity from the drying ground now so thick you could almost see it.

_Time to start avoiding people. Today is getting ridiculous._

          As I limped back toward the direction of the stage, I spotted Shurik and Electronik, moving along at a labored pace. The two of them looked to be sporting audio-visual equipment, much of which looked rather bulky.

          “Howdy, fellas.” I gave them a rather flimsy pioneer salute as they passed by with their burdens.

          “Hey yourself!” answered Electronik, winking at me.

_What’s that all about?_

He stopped walking. “Care to lend us a hand with equipment for tonight’s movie? Since we’re your new clubmates, and all!”

“Clubmates?” I asked. “Oh yeah, I should probably tell you, Miku convinced me already...”

He looked rather shocked by this revelation. “Really? Well, I should’ve guessed that we were no match for the cute girl,” he laughed. “You could always split time, couldn’t you?”

“Now is not the proper time for such matters!” Shurik lectured rather impatiently, shifting the weight of the tripod he was carrying. “If Olga Dmitrievna catches us lingering again, there is no telling how long she will exact her justice upon us!”

Electronik nodded and continued to move along, looking at me a bit slyly. “Drop by later, we have a new development that will change your mind!”

They made their way up the trail, and as they vanished from sight, I considered just why I was headed up there. Slavya had made it somewhat clear that I should keep away from her; not that Zhenya would be helping with the cleanup of the stage, but I could see her point in being elusive.

Now was the time where I could actually relax for a bit, stop trying to make sense of everything.

After casting a glance in all directions, I headed back toward the southern shore of camp. All this time, the lake had been calling to me, and I hadn’t set foot near it.

The long, gravel-patched path led to an aged, attractive boathouse painted as blue as the skies themselves, a flag flying high above it; I recognized the camp’s owl, looking out vigilantly as the wind caught the fabric.

Connecting to the shore was a sturdy wooden pier with a steel railing, allowing one to stand and gaze out toward a distant railroad bridge. Apparently the walls of the camp only enclosed us so much.

Nearby were sections of boardwalk that seemed to bob up and down with the waves -- perhaps floating on pontoons. Moored to them were a number of wooden rowboats, which bobbed and knocked into each other.

The sound of the water lapping gently at the structure and the sides of the boats was incredibly soothing to my ears. “This is more like it,” I said to myself, taking a breath.

I walked as close as I could to the water’s edge, taking in the sight of the lake’s vast expanse. The two distant islands provided the illusion that this body of liquid was more like an ocean, rather than being land-locked.

As I stood quietly, arms crossed, a smell caught my attention: burning tobacco. It didn’t surprise me all that much; there was likely a staff member manning this place. So what if he or she was taking a smoke break?

Along with this strong smell, I could hear the distinct sound of a radio playing a tune; something pretty old, with a twanging guitar, blocked electric keyboard and a ballad rhythm. Somewhat cheesy and maybe a bit on the “surfer” side, but I didn’t particularly mind it.

Looking to my left, I saw movement in one of the boats, and then a figure appeared.

Wearing a colorful bandana over her head, Alisa was apparently working on something, halfway crouched in the vessel. I walked calmly over to her, the platform underneath me shifting with my weight. It was going to take a bit of time to adapt to this.

Upon seeing me approach, she stood up with practiced stability, a cigarette burning in one hand. The music was coming from the heavy portable radio that I’d fiddled with the day before, which was now resting on the floor of the boat. Next to it was a reel and assorted other items; looked like she was heading out to go fishing.

She looked at me with vague curiosity and spoke. “What are you doing, standing there?”

“Minding my business, really,” I responded, looking her up and down. I pointed at the smoke rising from between her fingers. “ _Those_ are bad for you, you know.”

She gave a single chuckle. “And who asked you? You come from a ‘free country’, don’t you? Let me be!”

I nodded, doing my best to look my recent “frenemy” in the eyes. “You… you got another one?”

Her eyes registered surprise. “You too, hm? This is my last one.”

“So that’s all you’ll have until the end of summer? Sucks for you.”

Alisa offered no response, just stared at me, then out toward the water. The silence between us began to build. “Now what?” she seemed to say with her eyes.

“Um… sleep well?” I asked.

“I guess. Why does it matter to you?” She stepped out of the boat. I almost lent her a hand, but her stance was strong and determined. Not to mention that touching her at all after last night was not recommended.

My attempts at small talk were already falling apart. “Just wanted to know. After all, that brig had the both of us creeped out.”

“I admit to nothing,” she declared, taking another drag. I watched as she released a perfect ring of smoke from her lips.

Some may disagree, but I’d always found some girls rather attractive while smoking. Alisa was no exception to this. Not that I desired a dried-out, chain-smoking hag, but there was a certain allure to a pretty girl who enjoyed the occasional tobacco at times.

“You always do this?”

“Do what?” she asked, looking at the boat for a brief moment.

“Come down here and smoke.”

She shook her head. “Not always, but this morning seemed as good as any. You weren’t hoping to start following me around, were you? I could take that as harassment.”

Where’d this come from all of a sudden? Already she was taking things a bit too far. “No. I’m just trying to relate here.”

“You're doing what?”

“Relating. You know, getting to know you a bit more.”

She didn’t seem very convinced. “ _Hah!_ Sure, that’s what you say, isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She irritably lowered her eyebrows. “You heard me.”

“Well of course I did!” My own short temper flared in response to her moodiness. “I just don’t know what you’re getting at.”

She bit her lip, taking a good few moments before responding. “Never mind.”

I sighed, facing away from her. This attitude was not what I needed after being turned into a human voodoo doll.

Her hand snaked out, catching my left arm with a somewhat clammy grasp. She peered curiously at my bandage, then looked at me with a crooked smile and a wink. “What happened to you? Decided to take a trip to the wild side? Looking at pink spiders?”

“Our nurse caught me.”

Alisa continued to smile in a sly fashion. “ _Ohh…_ I see. You’re a regular Dudley Do Right, aren’t you? Kissing straight up to the adults…”

“You know who Dudley Do Right is?” I asked.

She smugly laughed. “Sure, don’t you? That idiot Canadian cop who rides his horse backward? I think it fits you.”

“…Thanks. So what makes you think I’m ‘kissing up’, then?” I asked, rolling my eyes a bit.

She regretfully ground out the last of her cigarette with her sandal. “You were in the nurse’s office that first day, and have been treated by our camp leader, the librarian, and Slavya as though they were your mother hens.”

“What? No they haven’t! Zhenya, sure, but… I rarely talk to Slavya.”

“ _Ha!_ Don’t lie. Your eyes did this little ‘thing’ when I said her name.”

I bit my lip. “And camp leader… I do my best to not mix it up with her.”

“Mix what?” Alisa suddenly looked confused. Apparently my English colloquialisms were being heard as something completely strange to Russian ears.

“Nothing. Point is, I stay away if I can.”

“Right, but when she’s around, you’re always walking in a straight line. Don’t want to disappoint, Mister Ambassador! Can’t let her spread the truth about you being as dumb as a brick!”

As much as I resented this cheeky girl’s back-handed insult, I didn’t see the point in arguing the same crap that Ulyana liked to bring up, so I went for the more viable point. “Straight line? How about when she jumped on me?”

Alisa chuckled. “Yep! Even then!” Her entire body shook with laughter. “That was really funny. You looked like you were about to piss yourself.”

The mouth on this one! “So did you. ‘A brig? We have one of those?’ Your eyes said it all, Dva-Cheh.”

She clenched her teeth. “You want to take a swim?”

“Easy. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She gave my pad of gauze and stretchy tape a solid whack with her fingers, sending a sharp jolt of pain up through my bones. “Serves you right,” she said as I drew a loud breath through my teeth.

I shook my hand rapidly, trying vainly to ease the burning sensation. “Damn. Are you always crabby like this, or is it just a morning thing?” I asked.

“Call me ‘Dva-Cheh’ again and you’ll find out.”

“Why is it a problem if people call you that?”

“Think about it.” She wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably. “Dvachevskaya’s my last name. It’s pretty disrespectful, don’t you think? To shorten someone’s family name just for your own convenience?”

          I tried to answer, but she quickly cut me off. “What about you? How do you get around with your last name in English? It’s just as bad, from what I remember.”

She had a point. “Wohosky” had never been easy to deal with, even by my own tongue. Somehow, inexplicably… she’d made me like a jerk, although she’d been dominating in that area from the go. “You’re right. I guess I feel the same way when people screw up my name, too.”

“So… don’t do it. I don’t joke about that sort of thing.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough. I guess that was a bit uncalled for.”

She nodded, accepting at least that much as apology.

I did my best to move things forward. “So what are you up to, then?”

“Getting ready to head out. Escape the camp and never return.” She said with a wink. Instantly, she’d transformed.

I chuckled. “Lucky you.”

“And what, you’re not even sad that I’m going?” She shook her head. “Such a jerk.”

“Haven’t given me a whole lot to miss just yet. Not that we can’t change that.” I said with a shrug.

Her eyes went slightly wide, but then she looked away. “Sh… shut up.” She looked slowly back to me with discomfort. “What are you meaning, anyhow?”

I stammered slightly. “Just saying… I’m sure you’re worth knowing. Isn’t everyone?”

“No. Not really.” Her body seemed to swivel a bit; I wasn’t sure if she was being girlish or just trying to stay planted on the boardwalk. “Some people simply aren’t worth it.”

“Some, but not all.”

She looked away with disinterest. “Sure, whatever.”

I watched as she carefully stepped back into the boat, sitting herself down.

“What about you? You’re really gonna go alone?” I asked.

“Of course. Why, were you thinking of coming along?” She asked with a crooked brow.

I shrugged. “Why not? I could get away for a while, at least.”

She shook her head, then picked up an oar and pushed away from the dock. “Later.”

I tossed the mooring line to her from where I stood, then watched as she grabbed another oar and paddled away, leaving me standing alone. It took a while for her to get a good distance away, and the whole time she looked everywhere but in my direction.

Trying to decipher Alisa could have easily been a full-time job. Her general opinions and attitude toward people didn’t make her very likeable. Were it not for her redeeming cuteness, she’d be a goner.

_Damn. That’s a horrible thing to say._

I shook my head. “Can figure that shit out later.”

Turning around, I headed back to the square. Relaxing would have to come later; from the feel of things, there wasn’t going to be much of it today.

   
As I arrived at the square, I heard the distinct sound of vehicle tires crunching on asphalt just outside the camp. The toot of a horn especially got my attention; someone was at the front gates.

I decided that it would be a good idea to check it out, so I hoofed it down the path leading past the clubhouse, arriving at the gates in a little less than a minute.

It wasn’t just one truck, but several. Apparently this was the day when the camp would get its weekly supplies, as the canteen staff were already here, helping to unload sacks of grains, meats, and other foodstuffs.

Viola was also here; she looked at me with the usual predatory glance, making me freeze.

I was never happier to see Olga; she seemed to be supervising more than anything, standing and watching as the work was being done.

I approached her. “Camp leader, would you like me to help?” I suddenly felt a slight jab in the back of my brain from Alisa: _Dudley Do Right._ Guilty as charged.

She nodded gladly. “I would greatly appreciate it. Although you’re our guest here, you’re more than welcome to lend a hand!”

So was our business at the stage a vacation in her eyes?

She looked around me, her eyebrows lowering. “Ivan! Svetlana! Make yourselves useful! Don’t let him outdo true pioneers!”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that; was she complimenting me or putting me down?

Somewhat timidly, near one of the pioneer statues, a boy and girl of equal and average height looked at the camp leader, then at me. For the life of me, they had to be identical twins, except for very obvious differences in gender.

At least, I believed that they were siblings. If not, they were candidates for the world’s creepiest couple, standing there practically holding hands. Each had purple eyes that almost looked to not have pupils, silver-white hair, and wiry constitutions. There was something very _Village of the Damned_ about them. Albinos, if such a thing existed in this strange world.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to them at first, but I finally put a hand out and introduced myself. “Brion. Nice to…”

“We know," said Ivan. My handshake was not returned. “We’ve heard all about you from Electronik. He said that you are joining our club.” He straightened his stance and sized me up.

          I took my hand back awkwardly, a bit relieved that his counterpart didn’t start speaking at the exact same time, making them the true robots around here, masquerading as club members. “I haven't exactly joined.” I replied. “I told…”

Svetlana, the girl, sized me up as well, her eyes tracing slowly up and down beneath impeccably-trimmed bangs that ended just above her eyebrows. “Good. Don’t." She stated plainly. No detectable malice, and yet… still in the realm of threatening. Or just plain mean.

“Don’t? Why do you say that?” I asked with a frown.

“It wouldn’t be the place for you,” replied Ivan. “We really wouldn’t want to bring outside influence into our project.”

“Well, isn’t that up for your club leader to decide?”

“Of course, but you still make a choice in the matter, negating the club leader’s decision.” Svetlana smoothly and clinically put this forward. “It would be preferable if…”

Olga stepped over to us, placing her fists on her waist and staring the two of them down, breaking up the conversation. “Let’s see more movement, less talking!”

“ _Da!”_ There they went, responding synchronously with panic in their voices, scattering to get their hands dirty. In turn, so did I.

* * *

 

We helped to unload the trucks in what seemed to be no time at all. I was surprised I was able to move as much as I did, considering that I’d had a literal pain in the butt since the infirmary. We helped to stock the canteen with grains and meat, as well as carrying medical supplies, hygiene products and other miscellaneous goods in the camp.

As one of the last trucks was unloaded, I stood aside, looking for something else that needed doing.

I caught a glimpse of Ulyana looking particularly thrilled about something. She’d shown up near the tail end of the job to take up some of the burden -- comically carrying a sack of sugar that was almost bigger than her at one point -- but now as I gazed at her, I noticed that her body language was slightly odd. She was hiding something under her shirt, failing to not look obvious.

          Strangely enough, I was the only person who noticed a rather odd bulge under her uniform and the fact that her arms were wrapped around herself like she’d been kicked in the ribs. I stood in front of her, arms crossed. “Ulyana…”

“Hm? What?” she asked with a coy smile, acting as though this were completely normal.

“Need help with that?”

Her face failed her; she grinned. “Help with what?”

I stepped closer to her, staring her down. “You seem to have something that I want.”

Her eyes became wide when I said this. “Wha… what do you mean?”

She really seemed scared at the moment -- not from being caught, it would seem. The way she was looking at me made me feel like some sort of predator.

Then again, the way that I was talking to her definitely fit. I went for the gold. “I'd like to get my hands on what's under your shirt.”

This time I was sure that we’d been heard. Taking a quick glance to my right, Olga Dmitrievna was still standing nearby, supervising the last of the work. She seemed to tilt an ear toward us.

Ulyana’s cheeks began to glow a bright red. “I… um…”

I took my thumb and index finger and began to rap them on the hard object that the girl was trying to protect with her arms. Through her shirt, I was greeted with hollow metallic clicking. “This doesn’t sound natural, Partner.”

          _“Tikho!”_ she hissed, scrunching up her body even more to protect her loot. “You’ll give me away!”

“Just hand it over. You’re already calling attention to yourself,” I informed her, stating the obvious.

She sighed, resigned in her failure. “Oh, fine.”

The hidden object was a metal film can. Try as she might, there was no way that the girl was going to successfully get this through the camp without being noticed. I took it from her and studied it. “You’re kidding… why would you take this?” I asked.

“I didn’t take it,” she informed me. “The man from the truck handed it to me. I thought I’d have fun hiding it, though!”

“Hiding the second reel to…” I read the title, and my eyes went wide. “ _Threads_.”

“Yeah, so?”

I wasn’t sure what to be more put-off by: the fact that Ulyana wanted to hide tonight’s movie, or the idea that we were showing a movie about nuclear apocalypse to a camp full of pioneers.

“Brion!” Olga looked our way and motioned over to me.

I nodded, elbowing and whispering to Ulyana before moving away. “Bug out while you can.”

Ulyana occupied herself with tucking her shirt back in before artfully disappearing around Slavya, who was rushing up in a late approach to help us. She looked disappointed to have missed all of the work.

I stood before the camp leader. “Yes?”

Olga was carrying a film can of her own; it didn’t take a genius to know what was in that one. “Oh, good to see that this turned up. I thought we were going to have to cut tonight’s event short.” She motioned to the seized property that I carried.

I nodded, handing it over to her. My fingers became slick with something wet, shiny… somewhat pungent… _Sweat. Ugh. Come on, Ulyana._ “Well, crisis averted.”

Olga took the can from me and smiled, then looked to her aide with a slightly blank expression. “We’re all finished here, Slavya. How is the stage?”

The blonde girl coyly nodded to the camp leader. “We’ve almost finished. I have Zhenya and some of the boys caring for last details.”

Olga handed the film over. “Good. Please give this to Electronik as soon as you can.”

Slavya nodded, biting her lip. It looked like the working relationship between these two was becoming much more superior/subordinate, with the space in between growing ever wider. Or at least, that’s how it sounded. Slavya really looked nervous about something.

  
With the last truck pulling away, we all made our way back into the camp. Once again, I was side-by-side with Slavya, who was remarkably silent now. I took the occasional glance at her, noticing that her eyes were tilted toward the ground.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She looked up to me with an instant but flimsy cheerfulness. “Hm? No, not at all!” she laughed. “Why do you ask?”

Perhaps I didn’t have enough evidence to make light of her situation just yet. “Just asking. You’ve been looking a little down today.”

“Oh?” She looked at me curiously, then went for a cheerful evasive. “Well, it’s just been a busy morning, that’s all.”

As we neared the square, I caught sight of the short librarian; she was stomping down the path from the stage, not looking very happy.

Remembering Slavya’s earlier words, I broke my step and quickly moved in the direction of the administration building. “Later,” I offered, noting her expression of surprise.

Sure, I doubted that I was fooling anyone, but it was worth a try. Besides, perhaps Zhenya’s glasses weren’t good enough for her to witness my abrupt escape.

Once I was concealed in the shadow of the white brick wall, I shook my head, mumbling to myself. _“This is nuts. You haven’t hidden from a girl since... college, from that chick who was stalking you. Okay, bad example..._ ”

A head popped out of the bushes. Of course, I wasn’t surprised that it was Ulyana. The girl was an effective stalker herself, turned out. “You’re in almost as much trouble as me!” she said with a proud grin.

“I’m not usually _getting_ myself into trouble. It just happens to find me.” I replied.

“Right! That’s exactly what I say!”

I could hear Zhenya and Slavya talking to each other. It sounded like they were headed our way.

“There enough room in there?” I asked.

“It’s the bushes, what do you think?” Ulyana asked. “You want in, get in!”

It was easy enough for her to say. She had less height to work with and a much smaller frame. “Fine. Show me out of here.”

“You’ll owe me!” She winked and quickly dove back into her hiding spot, and I crouched down as well, setting myself down into the thick undergrowth that seemed to be everywhere around camp.

And so, I became one of Sovyonok’s most wanted.

At least, for the next hour or so.


	14. Up In Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more light-hearted, action-based chapter for once. Not quite as heavy in subject matter this time around, but I feel that it's a nice break.

          As I followed Ulyana through the foliage, I had the initial thought that we’d cleanly escaped.

           However, the abrasive tone of Zhenya’s voice cutting through the vegetation, hot on our trail, made me re-think that notion. The anger-filled words, “Where is he hiding?” and “I’m positive you would have seen him!” erupted more than once, obscured by the crunching and scurrying that I did in the wake of my younger companion.

           I paid no attention to the route we took as I trailed behind the red-haired imp who was supposedly leading me to safety. She navigated through the thick, unruly greenery with ease, every once in a while letting a branch or two smack me right in the face as she breezed past them.

          Eventually her pace seemed to slow, and then she surprised me by grabbing hold of my arm and dragging me down to the ground, nearly making me face-plant.

          We were lying next to each other in the bushes, looking toward the entrance to the canteen. My guide had taken me quite a ways from danger, and was now peering through the leaves with the focus of an expert tracker. Daryl Dixon had nothing on her.

          “What are you looking at?” I whispered.

          “Just look!” she instructed, pointing with her whole hand.

          I zoned in on where she indicated, noticing the beat-up Lada that was perpetually parked near the canteen. Two pioneers were standing nearby, and their body language seemed a little suspect; one was doing something under the car’s hood while the other looked to be keeping watch.

          “…Shurik? And Electronik?” I remarked aloud.

          “ _Shh!_ What are they up to?” Ulyana crept forward slightly on her hands and knees.

          We watched as the two engineering gurus quickly worked. Shurik lifted the battery from the car, setting it on the ground as Electronik quickly slammed the car’s hood shut. They then assisted each other in hefting the battery, quickly making their way around the back of the canteen, presumably out of sight.

          Ulyana’s face registered hungry excitement. “Let’s go!”

          “Go where?” I asked.

          “Let’s find out what they’re up to!”

          I shook my head. “Hey, you just got me _out_ of trouble, now you want to dive right back in?”

          Her lips curved into her classic conniving smile. “Come on, Partner. We can’t let them muscle in on our territory!”

          I arched an eyebrow. “Territory?”

          She stood up, hands triumphantly on her hips. “If anyone’s going to corner the market on bad deeds around here, it’s going to be us!”

          “Us? What’s this _us_ , babe?”

          She shrugged. “Fine, if you want to be boring, do it by yourself! I’m going.”

          The girl began to move away, albeit not as quickly as I would’ve expected. It looked as though she were hoping I’d follow her. She looked over her shoulder at me, a red eyebrow lifted expectantly.

          Well, to be perfectly frank, there have been times where I’ve lacked common sense, especially when I was around her age; I’d snuck around and gotten into knuckleheaded situations that could be seen as downright criminal.

          That being said, I continued to follow her through the bushes, learning to dart back and forth from cover to cover as she could while barely making a sound. It was incredible how good she was at this.

          Between the two of them, Shurik and Electronik made slow progress carrying the battery, nearly dropping it a couple of times. The two of them exchanged few words as they took a convoluted route back toward the clubhouse. It was obvious that they were trying to not be spotted.

          Ulyana could scarcely contain her anticipation; I could see her getting more and more excited, wiggling her butt almost like a cat before pouncing from the bushes, right at them. “ _Opa!”_

          Her sudden appearance shocked the two nerds, who once again almost dropped the battery directly onto their feet.

          Shaking my head, I emerged from our cover. “So much for stealth,” I remarked.

          “Hi, Cheesie!” Ulyana grinned, staring at Electronik.

          I looked at him with amusement. “Cheesie?”

          He nervously laughed, still trying to keep his grip on the battery. “Um, yes! I guess it makes sense, with my last name, and all!”

          A lesson in humility that Alisa could learn, I suppose. Still, Cheesekov was a rather different creature in itself.

          Despite the weight, Shurik looked at us with bewildered worry, sweat running down the sides of his face. “Are… you going to report us?”

          “Report what now?” I asked slyly. “You wouldn’t be up to something malicious, would you?”

          The two looked at each other, than back to us. “Let’s talk about it indoors,” said Electronik. “We would really appreciate help on this matter!”

          “We won’t tell anyone,” Ulyana said with a wink. “But I’m not helping to carry that! It weighs more than me!”

          I doubted that, despite her petite build. “Can’t carry it in threes. Just hand it over.”

          “Hand it over? You can’t carry it by yourself!” Electronik insisted, surprised as I snatched the object from both of their grasp.

          “Just… consider my debts repaid,” I grunted, holding it with both arms. “Let’s go.”  
  


          With my three bodyguards providing visual obstruction for me, we made our way to the clubhouse, entering through the back door.

          I placed the battery on the main workbench with a loud thud, receiving bewildered and accusative looks from Svetlana and Ivan; they were in the far corner of the room, soldering away at the logic center that Electronik had told me about.

          Electronik looked at his watch. “Excellent! Only seven minutes from execution to completion!” he announced.

          Shurik closed the door behind him. “Excellent indeed.” He looked at me and Ulyana. “I trust we can hold you both to secrecy…”

          Svetlana abruptly stepped in, noticeably alarming Ivan as she strode toward us with an outstretched arm pointing in our direction. Her voice was wrought with frustration. “These… these two are outsiders! I strongly object to this!”

          Ulyana reacted in typical fashion for a lady of refinement; she stuck her tongue out teasingly at the taller girl, whose gaze noticeably smoldered in response.

          “You strongly objected to me joining the club, as well,” I replied with a dark stare.

          Electronik looked to me with surprise in his eyes.  Excitement grew in his voice. “Have you really joined?”

          I shook my head. “No, but I will gladly assist. In any case, your secret’s safe. Now why exactly did you two steal a car battery?”

          Ivan stepped forward now as well, adopting a similar tone to his counterpart. “They were not stealing, merely borrowing!”

          “Semantics,” I replied, giving Ulyana a quick glance; sounded like they were playing from her book.

          Shurik proceeded to close the shutters on one of the windows. “We needed the battery as a safe method of testing our machine. We have yet to produce a transformer that will provide us with voltage that will not damage our equipment.”

          “Furthermore…” Svetlana looked at me and Ulyana again, then at the boys. She acted as though she were planning to explain something, but backtracked to her objections. Her porcelain face was turning a noticeable shade of angry red. “I refuse to accept that you two are so willing to reveal our research to this… American imperialist…” She grinded her teeth, now looking at Ulyana. “And… you!”

          “What? Why can’t I see?” Ulyana asked, staring fearlessly at the taller girl.

          “I doubt that you possess any understanding of mechanical or electrical principles! Covered in dirt as you are…”

          My little friend looked visibly offended. “I know enough about this sort of thing! My dad works on this stuff for the military!” She fumed, evenly matching Svetlana’s fury. “If it’s good enough for Gorbachev, it’s good enough for you!”

          I stood my ground as well. “American robots have sung and danced since the sixties, anyhow. I have very little to steal… _Ahem…_ borrow.”

          Svetlana lowered her eyebrows, speaking in a cold tone. “Just the answer I would expect…”

          “Enough arguing!” Electronik now came forward with a rare display of bravado, stepping between all of us. “We can argue over imperialism later! Let’s begin our test!”

          Both girls seemed to shrink in the shadow of Electronik’s sudden outburst, their eyes widening in surprise. Svetlana even took a step back, arms folded across her chest. “V… very well…” she stammered, quickly turning away.  
  


          With our conflict on the back burner, preparations were made. Ulyana helped Electronik with unveiling a single robotic arm, which was propped up on several pieces of wood. It had four slender fingers attached to a bulky-looking hand, with bundles of wires running up the length of the device, resembling muscular tissue.

          The arm was joined by the battery, lots of colorful ribbon cabling, and several crazy-looking circuit boards hooked into one another. For a project being done by pioneers, it was really something to see.

          Ivan reached into a backpack in the corner of the room and removed some sort of computer; at least, that’s what it looked like. Somewhat small, made of black plastic and sporting many keys on its top, the device had to be top of the line; for this time period, anyway.

          Electronik laughed at my curious gaze. “Seen one of those before, Brion?”

          “It looks almost like an Atari,” I commented.

          “This is far more advanced than a simple Atari; this is a Westa IK-31.” Ivan corrected me, his eyes registering slight annoyance. “It has far more computing power than a simple gaming console.”

          “You might know it as a Sinclair ZX Spectrum,” Shurik informed me.

          I simply shrugged; as much of a nerd as I was, I’d never heard of such a machine.

          “More so, it’ll serve as our way to control the robot. At least, for the tests,” Electronik added.

          I stifled a yawn; this may have been the bright future for Russian robotics, but I was beginning to go into a bored stupor. Even Ulyana seemed to be off in a land of her own, staring blankly and not saying a word.

 

          At long last, the equipment was all hooked up. There was a collective feel of anticipation as Ivan began to fluently type away at his computer, programming language flying straight from his brain into the machine being tested. As he did so, Shurik tweaked a few dials on a small box connected to the battery.

          A small puff of smoke rose from one of the circuit boards, quickly waved away by Svetlana, who sported a magazine. “It’s fine!” She looked at all of us with a quick glance before peering intently at her work.

          The sharp smell of ozone floated past our nostrils, and the fingers of the robot arm began to move in sequence, a very fluid motion coming from each as various servos buzzed away. The “hand” curled into a fist, then rotated, spreading the fingers back out.

          Of course, I’d seen this type of thing in movies countless times, to the point of boredom. However, the look of wonder in everyone’s eyes couldn’t be ignored. This was the height of technology being harnessed right before them.

          “Impressive,” I said quietly.

          “Readings are holding, but voltage is dropping more rapidly than expected,” said Shurik, tweaking knobs again. “Svetlana, how are things looking on your end?”

          Svetlana was leaning over the workbench, scrutinizing the circuit boards. “The capacitor readings are within the expected range. We may continue if able. Ivan, bring me a desk fan.”

          Electronik was positively giddy, staring at the green-lettered display of a computer monitor. “It’s amazing! Whatever Ivan types, the robot is storing and using randomly. It’s actually thinking!”

          Ulyana didn’t seem convinced. “How do you know? Maybe it’s already broken and you don’t know it!” she said with a wink.

          “We can prove it.” Electronik was unshakeable in his optimism. “Reach out and bend one of the fingers down, Ulyana.”

          She did as instructed, folding the arm’s index finger down until the tip was nearly touching the palm.

          A series of programming strings moved across the screen, and the finger bent back out in a controlled fashion. As Ulyana tried to grasp it again, the arm seemed to sense this motion and tucked the finger back in, just out of her reach.

          Shurik and Electronik both cackled like mad scientists, with laughter so loud that it nearly scared me. “See that?” said Electronik, grinning. “It thinks!”

          “And do take notice, Ivan isn’t providing input. The arm is sensing and reacting to its environment all by itself!”

          Indeed, Ivan had been preoccupied, setting a desk fan near the logic center so it could blow cooler air across the boards. “You’re right!” he said excitedly. “We may have developed the first fully adaptive, thinking machine!”

          “It’s the logic center,” Svetlana said with a few ounces of smugness. “The brain that I have developed for this machine.”

          “Indeed!” Electronik smiled approvingly at her. “Absolutely prodigious work, Svetlana!”

          The girl balked for a moment, and I could see a blush quickly fill her cheeks before she went back to studying her boards with an obsessive stare. _Oh, what’s this then?_

          “So… it’s not going to turn into Skynet, is it?” I asked. “I mean, if it’s doing what it wants…”

          Shurik laughed. “Surely you jest! It is simply an arm and components in our lab at this point. It won’t conquer the world… not yet, anyhow.”

          “Uh, guys…” I pointed to the arm, noting how its movements were becoming erratic and somewhat shaky. It was close to falling from its makeshift pedestal.

          Shurik adjusted his glasses and looked back down at his console, turning knobs. “I am having difficulty controlling the output,” he reported. “The battery is draining at an incredible rate. Svetlana, check the integrity of your circuit! There is simply too much draw!”

          “It is fine!” The girl insisted once more, looking closely at the clusters of capacitors, diodes and resistors.

          Insist as she might, the smell of ozone was accompanied now by the smell of burning plastic.

          “Ugh!” Ulyana reacted to the smell as well, covering her nose. “What is that?”

          “Something’s burning,” I warned, looking for the source.

          Electronik immediately moved to grab the fire extinguisher, wielding it somewhat clumsily.

          “Don’t use that!” Svetlana pointed to him bluntly. “Not until we know for sure!”

          “Perhaps it is best to simply cut power?” asked Shurik.

          Ivan shook his head. “We have yet to capture the readings! We’ll lose all the data from this run if we stop now! The logic center’s self-programming needs to…”

          “You’re going to lose a lot more than that if you don’t turn it off,” I asserted. The burning smell was becoming oppressive now.

          “I agree. We should shut it all down immediately.” Shurik began to twist more knobs, doing a tug-of-war with the current.

          “ _Nyet!”_ Svetlana was still defiant. “Grab the lantern batteries! We must keep the memory section powered!”  
  


          While the four of them continued to argue, Ulyana quickly slid back next to me with a shrug and a somewhat worried look in her eyes.

          “What?” I asked.

          “Just in case something happens.” She replied.

          I looked at her with amusement. “What am I, a human shield?”

          She shook her head. “No! I just don’t want to get blamed!”

          As we spoke, the crisis at hand was getting more and more frantic as smoke began to rise into the air. Despite their best efforts, the test was getting out of the hands of the robotics club’s members.

          “Cut the damn power!” I yelled.

          “It’s too late for that!” Shurik yanked the cables connecting the battery to the rest of the apparatus to prove his point, the connections now breaking free. The rest of the setup was still smoking profusely.

          “Ivan!” Electronik coughed heavily, dropping the fire extinguisher. I could hear it bounce across the floor. “Fire extinguisher! Get the…” His words cut short, and his blonde-haired figure crumpled to the floor.

          Shurik quickly stooped down to help his friend. I covered my face to shield myself from the smoke, although it was a rather vain attempt; already I could hear wheezing coming from my own lungs.

          “Svetlana, Ivan! Where are you?" I reached around in the thickening smoke that was making my eyes water, dropping immediately to my hands and knees. I had no idea how long I had before the fumes would cause me a significant danger. Electronik had fallen like a sack of hammers.

          I groped around blindly, my head nearly making contact with the workbench's metal legs on several occasions. The grayness of the smoke soon became tinged with orange. There was an actual fire in this room.

          To make matters worse, as I rounded the far end of the workbench, the robot arm decided right then and there to crash to the floor, various bits and pieces of its wired "muscles" melted together and smoking.

          Suddenly our ears were filled with the high-pitched hiss of the fire extinguisher. Ivan must have gotten to it after all! The room quickly filled with an opaque white vapor that was almost worse than the smoke.

          I continued flailing around blindly. Had to help Shurik take Electronik to safety, check on the other two, and…

_Ulyana! Where’s Ulyana?_

          The door was pulled open, and through the escaping smoke and I could see Shurik pulling the unconscious Electronik out of the room by his arms.

          And above me, Ulyana stood proudly, knees apart, holding the fire extinguisher in her little hands. She leaned down through the smoke, somehow still finding it the perfect time to tease me. “Why are you all the way down there? Looking for lost change, I hope!”

          With surprise in my eyes, I reached up and caught her by the arm. “Get out! Don’t waste time looking for me!”

          She looked slightly hurt. “You were just about to do the same for me, weren’t you?”

          With that, she pulled away from my grasp and left the room, still carrying the extinguisher.

 _Great,_ I thought, _now what?_

          That’s right, there was still the matter of that white-haired pair of professional knuckleheads. I hadn’t heard a single peep out of them since the fire broke out. “Hey, you two!” I called out raspily, creeping forward. “Where are you…”

          I was suddenly grabbed by the ankle and pulled across the floor. At first I thought that this was indeed a horror movie, and the twins from hell were going to now drag me into the abyss and experiment on me. Cue bloodbath.

          Instead, I looked into the concerned, angry eyes of Olga. The camp leader herself had come to investigate all the yelling and smoke, and now I was being pulled along in her iron grasp.

          “There you are! The last one out, now let’s go!” she growled.

          I flailed my arms. “Wait, there’s still the others…”

          My sentence cut short when I caught sight of Ivan and Svetlana. They were just fine; in fact, it turned out that they’d been the first ones to escape from the burning experiment. They’d simply picked the correct moment to vanish without anyone noticing.

          Defeated, I let the camp leader drag me as far as she pleased, being deposited on the front steps of the club building.

          Amidst a few other pioneers who’d seen the commotion and were now standing by, watching, Viola came striding up with a sense of urgency. Her tone was immediate, direct. “Now, who is hurt here?”

          Shurik waved her over, and she quickly attended to Electronik, who was still out of it. He looked to be breathing, but simply blacked out.

          Immediately Olga turned her wrath on the rest of us. “And just what could have caused this disaster?” she asked.

          “It was just a test,” Svetlana tried to speak without shuddering, but was failing miserably. “That’s all.”

          Looking through all of us, her eyes set upon Ulyana, who stood confused, clutching the fire extinguisher. “Somehow I think it had something to do with you!”

          Ulyana shook her head. “I didn’t do anything! Honest!”

          “Right. The only answer you ever seem to have. Why is it that when something dangerous happens around here, you always seem to be nearby?”

          “This really…” Ulyana began, but broke up. “Isnt…”

          I coughed, then waved my hand to get Olga’s attention. “Ulyana didn’t do anything wrong.”

          “Oh?” her gaze tilted to me. “Is that right?”

          “She helped. That’s all.”

          It took a few seconds for Olga to compute whether she trusted me or not. “Well then… perhaps once poor Electronik wakes up, he’ll be able to confirm it!”

          Shurik finally stood up. “Olga Dmitrievna, doesn’t my account matter? I believe it should!”

          Olga blinked. “Oh, well of course, Shurik. Perhaps you can tell us what happened?”

          “It was… beyond all calculation… the fault of the robotics club alone. We were irresponsible in our duties. All Ulyana and Brion did was help and observe.”

          I could see the wind taken out of her sails. There was no reason to get wound-up about any of this. She took a breath, glancing at Ulyana. “Well then… I guess that’s that, I suppose.”

          No apology. No “good job!” The camp leader simply climbed down from her high horse and artfully seemed to disappear amidst the watching pioneers.

          Now absolved of this matter, I sighed outward just as the horns began to sound for lunch.

          “Now then…” I looked to Ulyana. She seemed to be staring off into space, eyes somewhat unfocused. “Um… are you alright? Hey…”

          I shook her shoulder, and she quickly snapped back to life. “Lunch time!” she announced, making her way toward the canteen without me. She seemed like a robot that had suddenly been reset.

          Taking solace in the fact that I wasn’t dead, I made my way to the canteen as well. I ended up in line behind Lena, and as we sat down together, I noticed that she hadn't said a single word, and was looking at me somewhat coldly. It looked like I still had an issue to settle.

          I sipped black tea and simply waited.

            
          _Okay… let’s see what else is in store for today… I’m being tested, I know it…_


	15. Crazy Train

          We were halfway through lunch when Lena finally spoke. The corners of her eyes seemed to turn downward. “Did you find the key?”

          “Honestly, I haven’t had time.” With everything that had happened since the lineup, I’d really had no opportunity to do so.

          Of course, trying to find a key that wasn’t particularly missing was nonsense, but I wasn’t about to tell her who actually had it.

          “Oh.” Her voice was small, mouse-like. Obviously such news wasn’t doing much for her nerves. “It would be great if you could find it. Olga Dmitrievna opened the cell by herself today, so I've been lucky.”

          I nodded, wondering if the camp leader had to clean it; maybe that was why she was in an increasingly foul mood as the day wore on.

          “Will you really get in a lot of trouble?” I asked. “Surely she’s an understanding woman, right?”

          Lena stammered a bit. “No… well, maybe… I don’t know. I try not to get into trouble at all.”

          I nodded. “I’ll look for it. I can’t promise that I’ll find it, but… if it comes down to it, I’ll take responsibility. I won’t let you pay for something that was my fault.”

          She nodded curtly, smiling sheepishly. “Thank you.”

          While Lena turned her attention back to her meal, I felt the sting of guilt. There was no way to deliver on my promise to find the key; I doubted that Alisa would simply hand it back to me. Because of my scheme to end the war between myself and the camp bully, somebody was going to have to take the fall for it.

          Perhaps it would have been better to have left things alone, left Alisa in the brig overnight. It would have saved a few headaches, although I’d still be battling her. Maybe there would have been another way to resolve things.

          With no further words, I finished lunch and headed back outside, hoping that I could simply vanish for a bit and get my head together until it was time for the movie.  
  
          However, the sight of Viola standing near the canteen, next to her car with the hood open told me that I still had a busy afternoon ahead. As soon as she caught sight of me, she waved me over.

          “Yes?” I asked as I got within range of her.

          “ _Bello,_ tell me… you wouldn’t know as to why my car won’t start, would you?” she asked sweetly.

          Of course, I knew fully well what that tone meant. It was, in essence, anything but sweet. “I might.”

          As expected, she took a turn toward being more serious in tone. “Your young friend Electronik needs a tank of oxygen. That is one thing that did not arrive today.”

          “Shame,” I replied. “So… I guess you want to go and get some.”

          “ _Brilliante.”_ Her eyebrows lowered. “So… shall I have Olga Dmitrievna scold you, or will you quickly solve this problem? Your friend needs your help. After carrying you to the infirmary when you arrived, it seems more than fair. Wouldn’t you agree?”

          Being given so many choices by a woman who’d stabbed me several times earlier…

          “I’ll see what I can do.”

          “ _Andiamo._ ”

          I hurried away, in the direction of the robotics lab. The battery was likely still there; possibly scorched or melted beyond recognition. The fact that she’d asked me of all people to do this was proof that there was a brain behind all of this madness.

          “Fine, I’ll bail these guys out one more time, if that’s what I’m supposed to do _._ ” I muttered as I moved swiftly along.

          As I passed the square, I heard the sound of tiny feet intercepting me from the right side, at high speed.

          Not planning to be caught off-guard, I skirted sideways and turned, grabbing the rapidly-approaching Ulyana and noogying her aggressively.

          Except this wasn’t Ulyana; only a couple of inches taller, it was hard to discern blindly that I’d grabbed Zhenya. I ground my knuckles into the top of her dome with enough force to turn her hair-antenna into five.

          Of course, she was not at all pleased by my actions, and nearly punched me in an effort to get away. She eventually did break from my grasp, looking like she was going to kill me.

          “Wha… _Bolvan!_  You stupid, stupid jackass!” She yelled.

          “Whoa! Easy there. I thought you were someone else. You alright?” I asked, smoothing her hair back into place.

          She batted my hands away in frustration. “Do you _think_ I’m alright?”

          I put my hands on my hips. “Well, you’re certainly not going to die. Electronik, well, he’s a different story.”

          Zhenya didn’t seem particularly shaken by this news. “What’s that supposed to mean? Was that thing in the lab that serious?”

          “Actually, it was.” I took on a more serious tone. “He’s in the infirmary after breathing in toxic fumes. In fact, Viola has to run to town and get him some oxygen. Sounds pretty serious, don’cha think?”

          At this point, her anger flickered like the flame of a weak candle. “He’s… really hurt?”

          “Yes, damn it! I’m trying to help him.”

          “Oh.” She wrapped her arms uncomfortably around herself. “That’s… bad. Really bad. Maybe you should go, then.”

          “Right.”

          She glared at me through her glasses. “ _Right?_ That’s all you have to say?”

          “What else should I say? I really do have to get going.”

           Her eyes wandered back and forth regretfully. “It’s just… I was trying to stop him earlier; I knew he was going to do something stupid, but I didn’t think he’d go so far.”

          Time was ticking away. With every passing second, I was sure that Viola was losing her patience. “Look, walk and talk. We have to go to the lab, and then I have to get Viola’s car running. She needs to get to town as soon as possible.”

          She nodded curtly. “Fine.”  
  
          We walked at a quick pace toward the clubhouse. “So what exactly happened earlier?” I asked.

          “The… jerk asked me out again. He _knows_ that I don’t want to…” Her voice trailed off. “Actually, why should I tell you about that? I don’t even know why I’m talking to you in the first place!”

          I grunted irritably. “Let’s pretend that we’re living in an alternate universe at the moment where you _don’t_ have a thing for me and just tell the story.”

          I was expecting her to hit me, but she merely held her silence for a few seconds, then continued. “He _knows_ that I don’t like him that way. We were cleaning the stage, and he just wouldn’t let me be. And then… Ulyana dropped a bird’s nest on my head!”

          “…And?”

          “It was huge! It broke into pieces all over me! And what’s worse, everybody there thought that it was hilarious. So not only did he humiliate me by asking me out _again,_ but then Ulyana goes and does something like that.”

          I sighed. “That's not what I mean. Fast-forward to where he said he was going to do something stupid.”

          “I’m getting there, _bolvan_. I started to give him a piece of my mind, and then he said, ‘Fine, I’ll make a robot _today!_ One that will put every girl in this camp to shame! You watch!’.”

          “Pretty big words, I suppose. And you actually believed him?”

          She shook her head. “Ordinarily, no. He always talks like that; over-the-top. There was something in his eyes. He was actually angry for the first time. It was like something in him had changed, so… I came looking for him, but couldn’t find him. He wasn’t in the lab, nor anywhere else that I could think of.”

          So I wasn’t the one she was searching for earlier. I’d been hiding in the bushes for nothing!

          “What?” she asked in response to my involuntary chuckle.

          “And I’d thought you were looking for _me,_ instead.”

          She snorted. “Why would I be looking for _you_? I’m nowhere near done being mad at you.”

          “Good to know.” I rolled my eyes and opened the door to the clubhouse. The smell of burning plastic and God knows what else came rolling out, stinging our nostrils.

          “I… am not going in there.” Zhenya stated plainly.

          “You don’t have to. But... maybe you should go see him. You know where he is. Humor the boy just a little bit.”

          She stumbled a bit, shock on her face. “Why should I do that? It’s not my fault that he did something so foolish. He brought it on himself.”

          My hands involuntarily balled into fists. I was getting legitimately pissed off at her arrogance. “Because he’s a fellow pioneer who was going out of his way to impress you, and he happened to get unlucky and hurt himself. You don’t have to kiss him or anything, but at least show some damn compassion!”

          She took a step or two backward, eyes widening. “Don’t… don’t yell at me.”

          I’d unknowingly raised my voice, enough to make a few pioneers look in our direction. “Sorry. But look… if you’d like to do _something_ to help, go to the infirmary and just talk with him. He’d probably be very happy. Otherwise, indeed, why are you talking to me at all?”

          “Well… I was actually hoping that _we_ could talk.” Her eyes weren’t on me, but on the ground, and now her voice was quivering. “I was hoping to discuss what happened between us.”

          As much as the now disarmed Zhenya was tugging at my little heartstrings at the moment, the task at hand was still pounding at my mind; Viola’s stern commands were hard to forget, even now. “Look… whatever happened, let’s just put it aside for later and call it good. There are much more important things to deal with.”

          This didn’t seem to please her. She crossed her arms and frowned. “So you’re just going to dismiss me? We’re not even going to try and make things right?”

          I shrugged with my hands. “What more do you want? I said things are fine. Just let it go.”

          “It doesn’t just work like that!” She looked at me with rising anger. “Things don’t become fine just because you say so. We need to discuss it, work things over!”

          I looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Alisa; crunching up the path with a sack over her shoulder and chewing on a piece of long grass, she stopped briefly to look at the two of us with a raised eyebrow.

          “Well??” Zhenya pulled my attention right back to her, completely oblivious to the fact that we were being watched.

          “Right at this moment? I think it can wait, don’t you?”

          She shook her head. “No. I am not going _any_ further with this hanging over my head. I want a real answer from you.”

          “I gave you an answer already!”

          Her teeth bared as her voice built into a shout. “No you didn’t! All you said was that we’re ‘fine’ or ‘later’. There is no later, understand?!”

          “Look, calm down…”

          “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

          I’d had just about enough of her. Of all the things that could be going on in the midst of yet another crisis, I was being saddled with the topic that I least wanted to discuss. “We. Are. Fine. I don’t know what else to tell you. Or…. Maybe you think my answer from yesterday has changed? Because it hasn’t.”

          I seemed to have struck a nerve; she grinded her teeth, exhaling like a bull. “You… you have no tact… no heart… do you?” She took a breath and shouted at me ferociously. “Do you!?!”

          “I’m outta here.” I turned toward the open door.

          “I see how it is. Too busy saving the world, it seems. No time for the person who helped you to make it in this camp; just use me and forget me.

          “Well, fine! Off with you!” Her voice was now at full volume, silencing the birds in the trees and making any nearby pioneers take to their heels. “While we’re at it, let’s act like we never existed to one another, how does that sound? You say things can just be ‘fine’ because you said so. Well then, why stop there? No more! We’re finished! That’s how it is, because _I_ said so. Some ambassador you turned out to be! I hope they never send another one of you here ever again, you selfish bastard!”

          I turned back around to face her, my head pounding from my own pulse, which was spiking from frustration and anger. “Selfish? I’m not the one trying to guilt someone into a date while the person who _really_ likes me is lying hurt. Get the fuck off your high-horse.”

          Unable to muster any more anger than she already had, along with not being armed with any books to throw, Zhenya continued to fume at me, not saying a word. Even after yesterday, I'd never seen her so angry. I was expecting her to at least try to hit me.

          In the background, Alisa took a few awkward steps back the way she came, but then recommitted herself to walking toward the square, taking a final fleeting look at us before disappearing around the bushes.

          “I… hate you.” The words crept slowly from Zhenya’s mouth. “I can’t believe that you turned out this way.”

          I had no words for her. Maybe I even felt the same way at that moment: I hated her. Or more appropriately, I hated how she was acting. I couldn’t hate her for herself, but her behavior had reached a death-defying low.

          Finally, she scraped her heels on the ground and turned away, stomping fussily back toward the square.

          “Jesus…” I closed my eyes and shook my head, squeezing the bridge of my nose. I was in the red. One more irritant could send me into a blind rage. What was it about this day that was making me into everyone’s target?

          Shurik appeared in the open doorway, bringing my attention around to him. He’d obviously heard the sound of arguing echoing down the hallway. “Brion? What is with the commotion?”

          I shook my head. “Nothing that needs to be gone over. What are you up to?”

          He nodded. “I was going over the salvage and cleanup with Svetlana and Ivan. Of course, we are also investigating the cause of the test failure.”

          “You know about Electronik, right? Did Viola talk to you?”

          “Of course. He is certainly in a precarious state. However, there is not much that we common pioneers can do for him at the moment.”

          I took a somewhat dramatic pause and a breath before speaking again. “He’s not going to make it.”

          Shurik’s eyes almost went blank. “He… what?”

          I shook my head, smiling grimly. “Just kidding. Look, that battery you guys took: I need it, _now_. Otherwise it might actually be true. Viola has to drive to town for an oxygen tank.”

          He almost seemed angry at me for my sick little joke, but he let it pass. “Whatever I can do to help.”

          “Is the battery good? Can I take it with me now?”

          “Well, it doesn’t appear to be damaged,” he stated thoughtfully. “However, it is likely drained to the point where it may not start her vehicle. The robot's circuits produced a catastrophic drain on the battery, causing it to overheat and fail. That very well may have been one of the sources of smoke.”

          “Shit… and we were all breathing that.”

          He waved a hand dismissively. “Were that particularly true, we would all be accompanying Electronik in the infirmary. Unfortunately, it was he who was dealt the unlucky hand. Prometheus hath given man the gift of fire, but wielding godly power is a dangerous game, indeed.”

          “Nice.” I remarked to his interesting comparison. “So what do we do, then? We can’t call for an ambulance, can we?”

          He shook his head. “Without a telephone in this camp, no such service would reach us. There is a village a half an hour away that has a phone; however it works intermittently.”

          “So you’re telling me that we’re screwed? Come on, Shurik. You’ve got to have more for me.”

          He looked off into the distance for a moment, as though a plan were formulating in his brain at light speed. “Actually, now that you mention screwing something, I believe I know how we can solve the problem. Come to the lab.”

          I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I had no choice other than to follow him.

           
          The lab still stank to high heaven; despite the windows being open, the stench of burnt electronic components and battery acid was almost too much to take.

          I instinctively covered my nose, looking to see Ivan in the corner. Smartly wearing a dust mask, he was carefully examining a portion of the ruined logic center with a magnifying lens.

          “Where has Svetlana gone to, Ivan?” Shurik asked, looking in each direction.

          Ivan looked up, pulling his mask down to let it hang around his neck. “She has gone to the infirmary to check on Electronik’s condition. Despite my protests.”

          Shurik seemed surprised. “Really? Did she jump out of the window? I specifically asked her to stay here for the time being.”

          “She willfully disobeyed,” Ivan said with a note of frustration. “There was nothing I could do to stop her.”

 _Either that, or you didn’t do a damned thing._ I shook my head slightly at the wiry lab assistant, recalling just how he and Svetlana had been the first ones to book it when the catastrophe occurred.

          “Very well.” Shurik wrung his hands together. “We have a maximum priority task at hand. Is the dynamo that you constructed still in working order?”

          “Of course it is.” Ivan sounded particularly proud – smug, more like – about his device. “In fact, I have made improvements to its design since then.”

          “Let’s wheel it from the storeroom, then!” Shurik sounded excited, as though a great adventure was afoot. “We must recharge this battery with great haste!”

          “Take your time, really,” I mumbled, standing aside.

          The dynamo was on some sort of wheeled cart; with a huge copper coil, copious bundles of wires and a frame made of hammered sheet metal, the contraption definitely looked like a home-brewed science project. It reminded me of some type of laser from a video game I’d once played.

          Connecting the cables to the appropriate posts, the two engineers seemed quite enthusiastic about turning the massive hand crank at the rear. The machine began to whirr, its copper brushes moving at many revolutions per minute.

          Shurik had at it for a minute or so, turning the handle at a rather conservative pace. “Brion, how many volts are we reading?” he asked, taking a moment to cease his cranking.

          I looked at the volt meter that had been set up. The needle was bouncing at six volts. “Keep going.”

          Next came Ivan. With a much weaker build than Shurik, it was no surprise that he had more trouble getting the machine to wind up. Slowly but surely he was able to obtain a decent speed that made the readings on the meter rise. The needle wobbled back and forth, up to thirteen volts, then nine, then at places in between.

          Then came the next switch; back to Shurik. The two boys were working up a sweat, doing their best. With time, I could see how the plan could work, but the longer I stood there, the more nervous I felt; Viola wouldn’t wait forever, that was for sure. Once Olga Dmitrievna was informed, it would be hell for everyone, despite Electronik’s condition.

          “Switch off with me,” I said.

          “What?” asked Shurik, sweat rolling down the sides of his face. He let go of the handle, letting it freewheel.

          “I’ll do it too. After all, might as well use my muscle again, right?”

          “In theory, yes. I suppose this is more a situation for brawn, rather than brains.” He sounded as though he were making a joke, although there wasn’t any humor in his tone.

          I traded places with him. “Alright, here goes.”

          I fastened my grip around the heavy wooden handle and put my weight into it, spinning the crank with all the energy that I could muster. Despite what I’d initially thought, it was incredibly difficult to get some speed going, but once I did, the job was nearly effortless. It was more of an art of keeping the handle from ripping itself out of my hands at that point.

          “Fourteen volts at charge,” Shurik read. “Keep at it for a while.”

          As I worked, sweat began to run down my face. My arm bandage flew off. I did my best to spin the crank with all of my might, hoping that my extra effort would give us the results we wanted in less time.

          Minute after minute passed. I traded off with Ivan, then he with Shurik, then back to me. It was hard to tell how long we were at it, but after a while my arms simply wanted to give up. I was putting all of my body into cranking, making the device howl with the amount of torque running through the components. I let all of my pent-up inner rage escape into the machine.

          “Let’s see!” Shurik raised his voice over the machine’s grinding.

          I let go of the handle then, letting it freewheel. I was grateful to take a break. My whole upper body ached from the repetitive motion.

          “Excellent! Fourteen, thirteen, twelve…” Shurik counted along as the dynamo wound down. “It… is at nine volts.”

          “Damn it.” I took hold of the crank again, intent on giving it my last ounces of strength.

          However, Shurik stopped me. “I believe this should be sufficient to start the vehicle.”

          “But we’ve barely done anything!” I said with a cough. “Twelve volts DC, right? That’s what we need.”

          He shook his head. “Within reason, a vehicle’s battery voltage can be slightly low, provided that said vehicle has a sufficient charging system of its own.”

          Tech-talk wasn’t cutting it with me. Not now, anyway.  “So we’re done. Good. Gimmie the thing so I can get it back to Viola.”

          We disconnected the cables, and I attempted to lift the battery, but I was done; my arms refused to provide any further work for me. Looks like I’d overdone it in the last few hours.

          “Allow me,” said Shurik, grunting under the weight of the battery, which he lifted from the counter. “You’ve done more than your share, Brion. You owe nothing further to the cybernetics club. Ivan and I shall handle the rest.”

          I sighed, realizing just how spent I was. “Maybe. But… I’m not going to just leave. Not yet. Viola asked me herself to get this.”

          “Must I go, too?” asked Ivan, who was backing away toward the corner of the room, weaving his slender fingers together nervously. “I don’t understand how this task should involve me. The nurse is… very intimidating.”

          Shurik looked at him firmly. “We all go as one. A pioneer takes on his comrades’ problems as his own.”

          Ivan sighed in defeat, eyes closed. “Very well…”

          We abandoned the lab and stepped out onto the path, making the long journey back to the canteen.

          As I trailed in the rear, Ivan began to sing. His voice was so clear that it startled me; it were was though he’d prepared to burst forth in song well in advance. _“It is not necessary to live in a low voice. We have started our run. You and I have the honor to open the twenty-first century!”_

          Despite the weight of the battery, Shurik sang the next line. His voice wasn’t nearly as refined, but he knew the song just as well as his counterpart. _“Through the night and the blizzard, I hear the clock begin its willed counting-down. The arrows move along the circle, and time goes forward!”_

          Then the two sang in unison. As they did, I reflexively walked slower, nodding my head along with the rhythm and allowing them to have their moment to act like a couple of proud pioneers:

          _“If the ideas of your fathers will be the purpose of your life,_  
_Just so we will win! Just so we will win!_  
_Do you hear the voice of a rebellious youth? Do you hear the voice of the workers and the peasants?_  
_Lenin, Party, Komsomol!”_

          They repeated the last line of their chorus in a loud, proud chant. So proud, in fact, that it got the attention of Viola, who spotted us from a good distance away. She’d been leaning impatiently against her Lada, and as we neared the canteen, she strode toward us with anger in her eyes; the first time I’d seen anything like it from her.

          “There... a happy group of boys, singing with bliss.” She stopped in front of us, adopting a wide stance with her feet, staring all of us down; an easy feat with her height. “And not five minutes ago I had alerted the camp leader to your illicit activities. It is such a pity.”

          This news made all three of us lose any bravado that we’d mustered on the way over.  My blood ran icy cold. “You… no, you didn’t!”

          Viola concentrated on Shurik, who still struggled with the battery. She cradled his chin with her right hand, peering into his glasses. Then she grabbed his neckerchief and collar briskly. “The next time you attempt larceny, Pioneer, it will not end well. A life hangs in the balance due to your incompetence.”

          “I… I apologize, nurse…” Shurik looked like he was about to piss his shorts. Poor bastard.

          Letting go of him, Viola then looked at Ivan and me, as though to paint her statement unto us all. I swallowed; my throat was as dry as sandpaper.

          Shurik stepped awkwardly away and began the process of installing the battery in the car. Ivan shrunk away as well, leaving me alone once more with the nurse – well, as alone as we could be, standing there in front of the canteen.

          A smile crept across her lips. “Cheer up, _Bello_. All’s well that ends well, right?”

          “R…. right,” I stammered. “I’m sor…”

          She hushed me with a finger to my lips. “No apologies. Those lose their value the more that you use them.”

          I swallowed again; damn throat wouldn’t cooperate! “I’ll… um… I guess I should talk with Olga Dmitrievna, then.”

          Viola laughed girlishly. “Very gullible. One of a few things that I like about you young men.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys, which she slid into my hand, our fingers grazing just a bit too much.  “Give these over to Slavya, would you? I know that you are trustworthy.”

          I wanted to protest; I certainly wasn’t the one to trust keys to, not with my track record. Of course, there was no way that I could tell her about that. “Of course.”

          “Good. I believe I saw her heading for the infirmary. Go there now. I’ll take care of the rest of this.” She looked toward Ivan, who'd failed to make a clean escape. "I still require a blood specimen from you, young man."

          Ivan nearly squeaked like a rabbit being attacked by an owl. I suppose I couldn't blame him; I'd had more than my share of Viola's enthusiasm with a needle.  
  
  
          I was sure glad to finally be free of the robot club’s battery nonsense. The infirmary was a short walk away from the canteen, so it took me no time at all to get there.

          When I entered, I quickly noticed that a number of the camp’s females were already in there, tending to the groggy Electronik’s needs. Svetlana was there, of course, as well as Slavya.

          However, Ulyana was monopolizing whatever time she could to have the boy’s attention, sitting in a chair next to the bed, entertaining him with lame jokes.

          It looked like this was beginning to anger Svetlana; Slavya as well, although with the way she was checking over his chart, I think her anger was more out of general annoyance. The other two, well… there was certainly some sort of competition going on.

          “Oh, hi again,” said Slavya, turning all of her attention to me. I was hardly acknowledged by the other girls. “Did you come to check on Aleksandr, as well?”

          “Aleksandr?” I asked, slightly confused.

          “Yes. It's Electronik’s real first name. I actually had no idea until just a few minutes ago, isn’t that funny?” she giggled.

          From her tone and the way she was carrying herself, I was suddenly convinced that even Slavya was riding the same car of the crazy train. If I knew what was good for me, I’d duck out as soon as possible before I choked on air made of pure estrogen.

          “Sure is. Hey…” I took the keys and handed them over. “Viola left me these for you.”

          “Oh, thank…” Slavya began, but her sentence was buried under Svetlana’s voice suddenly rising in volume with marked frustration.

          “It wasn’t a dog, it was a marsupial! You’re telling the joke all wrong!” she growled at Ulyana, who simply shrugged, stuck her tongue out and happily kept going with whatever story she was slinging.

          “Um… say, I did speak to Olga Dmitrievna about something for you.” Slavya cut back in, stepping a bit closer to me so we could hear each other better.

          “You did?”

          She nodded joyfully. “I’ll tell you about it later tonight, after the film.”

          I wondered just what it was, and why although it sounded important, she was willing to make me wait a few hours for it.

          “Okay, sounds good.” Being so close to her after all I’d gone through that day… yep, I definitely needed to leave. “Well, see you.”

          She looked a little surprised. “Oh, but wait, weren’t you here to see Aleksandr?”

          “Of course. And now I’ve seen him.”

          Slavya frowned slightly at me. "Really, that's it? You didn't say a single word to him."

          Although being rather loopy and wearing an oxygen mask, Electronik somehow noticed my presence at this time. “There he is… the man who saved the day.”

          I quickly changed my demeanor as Slavya stepped out of my way to bring me into Electronik’s view. “Ah, yeah… I tried, anyhow…”

          “That was you who dragged me out of the flames and smoke!” he declared, lifting his mask off to project his voice. However he began to cough and placed the mask quickly back onto his face.

          “Don’t pull that off, silly!” Ulyana teased.

          “You’re at low level as it is.” Svetlana gave her report, keeping a wary glance on the gauge on the oxygen bottle.

          I waited for him to stop coughing. “That was actually Shurik. He pulled you out, I was probably second on the list of passing out.”

          “Oh, so… you didn’t put out the fire?” he asked, eyes alarmingly glassy. It was obvious that he was out of it.

          I shook my head. “That was Ulyana. She practically saved the lab.”

          Ulyana patted him on the chest a little more aggressively than she should have. “See, told you! I wouldn’t lie about something like that!” she told him teasingly once more.

          Electronik looked appreciatively at her and nodded. “It seems I owe you one, don’t I?”

          “You bet!” Ulyana bounced happily in her chair. "That's two favors I've earned today! Talk about luck!"

          This exchange was visibly making Svetlana blush a bright red; the sting of jealousy was very evident with her. Her stare was colder than I’d ever seen it.

          “Anyhow, good to see you. Hang in there, buddy.” I turned and quickly headed for the door.

          However, it began to open before I could get to it, and I came face-to-face with Alisa. She’d shed her colorful bandana and was baring the midriff again.

          “What is this, a party?” she asked, looking around me suspiciously.

          “Something like that. Let me out, will you?”

          She put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me assertively. “Don’t come out yet. Hold on a second.”

          Disappearing back through the door, she pulled it briskly shut behind her. I was left standing there, dumbfounded.

          After a tense minute of wondering what on earth she was doing, the door finally opened again. “There. See yourself out.” She said, breezing by me.

_Don’t mind if I do._

   
          I quickly stepped out onto the path. Cabins were in front of me, while up toward the north: the stage and the library… _oh, hell no._

          I headed toward the cabins, hoping that perhaps I could cut through some brush and make it to someplace quiet, where I could ride the rest of this day out in peace.

          However, a cheerful humming coming around one of the structures let me know that I was about to be intercepted yet again.

          Miku happily hopped out then, taking a stroll by herself. Swinging her arms, cyan hair wafting in the breeze, she seemed in an even more energetic mood than usual. “Oh, hi there, Brion! Say, did you hear about what happened in the other clubhouse?...”

          She jumped right into filling my head with a surplus of words, as would normally be her desire. I began to walk away, but I’d apparently misjudged her as another girl running off to coddle Electronik… she began to follow me, instead.

          I wandered a little aimlessly, but she kept alongside me, taking time to be silent for a moment or two. Perhaps she’d actually asked me a question and was waiting for an answer.

          “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, stupidly. As usual, I was doing myself no favors.

          She thought for a moment. “I said…” her words came out slowly, strugglingly. Could it be that she spoke faster than even her own brain could keep up? “I asked if you think that robots will one day take over everything, including music. What if people end up preferring machines and computers over real people?”

          That was a much deeper question than I thought could come from her. “Um… it would be a sad day, for sure.”

          She nodded. “Hopefully it never comes to that! There's nothing like real voices, real instruments and real bands, although… synthesizers are pretty nice at times…”

          Trailing off on her next tangent, her words became very quiet but constant as she processed the topic further on her own.

          A sturdy wooden bench near the square finally beckoned to me, covered in ample amounts of shade from the tall trees. Wasting no time, I sat down, enjoying a look up toward the sky. Large cumulus clouds rose in the horizon, billowing like handfuls of cotton fluff. Maybe the rain would return, and we’d have to cancel the screening.

          With that thought in mind, I learned my head back, relaxing in my place. Next to me, Miku had taken a seat and looked to be meditating, eyes closed tightly, head slowly bowed, posture serenely straight.

          For now she was quiet, so fading off for a quick nap wasn’t hard to accomplish. At least ten minutes would be a big help.


	16. Olga, the Fashion Cop

          Little did I know that I would actually fall asleep for several hours there on the bench. Apparently, I was more tired than I realized. With Miku gently humming a tune carried on the exact same breeze that wafted through the trees, it was a setting far too serene to not be lulled into slumber.  
  
          I didn’t dream; somebody pushed the button on the universe’s DVD player, and just like that, the afternoon flew by us in the blink of an eye.  
  
          When I came to, I could feel a weight on my shoulder. Slowly opening my eyes, I was surprised to find Miku resting her head there, having fallen asleep herself. Amazingly, she was still humming, just not as rhythmically.  
           
          Looking down, she’d actually taken my arm for herself as well, holding on to it with both hands. The square was deserted; a good thing, as any passerby could draw a conclusion about us just from a glance.  
           
          “Miku,” I gently whispered, shaking my arm ever so slightly.  
           
          She mumbled lightly and burrowed her head even deeper into my shoulder, cuddling up against my neck. I tried again, but to no avail.  
           
          _Well, I guess I’m stuck here._  
           
          Not that I was complaining; it had been quite a while since I’d been in such proximity to a girl. I was close enough to smell her hair, feel the warmth and softness of her body against mine. If I really wanted to, I could probably find a way to put my arm around her. _Maybe even make a move._  
           
          No… well, maybe. Despite her odd personality, she was still a very cute girl, and sitting with her like this was sure to be a rare occurrence.  
           
          However, I knew that pushing boundaries like that wouldn’t be the best move; we still didn’t know each other very well, so I compromised and rested my head against hers, waiting, contentedly taking in the sound of the breeze, her gentle humming, and warmth.  
           
          Had it not been for Viola’s car suddenly racing through the square, kicking up pebbles and dust in its wake, I may have been trapped on that bench for a good long while. The car was moving at a breakneck pace on its way back to the infirmary, beeping its horn sporadically, calling attention to itself. It was enough to wake Miku from slumber.  
  
          Covering her mouth with one hand to yawn, she looked down at my arm, blinking her eyes. “Oh?”  
           
          “Hm?” I asked quietly.  
           
          She looked up at me, pale porcelain cheeks slowly turning a bright pink. “What’s happening here?”  
           
          A normal question for once. I slowly made to release myself from her grip. “Nothing, I think. I woke up this way.”  
           
          “You think so?” She looked into my eyes, a smile creeping across her lips.  
  
          _Damn, she’s actually adorable._ “Yes?”  
           
          “You don’t sound very sure!” she laughed. “That’s so cute.”  
           
          In the past, I’d once dated a girl who was half-Japanese. Looking into Miku’s eyes, I was reminded of those of a girl whom I'd once told was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me -- Yeah, I could say some very crazy stuff to girls at times.  
           
          Of course, that didn’t get me anywhere. And in a literal sense, that girl was an entire world away. Now I had Miku to deal with. “Well… _you’re_ cute.”  
           
          “Oh my god!” she giggled, pulling her arm away from mine as her face flushed fabulously. I wasn’t sure if I’d just offended her or flattered her. She covered her mouth, laughing with her entire body.  
  
          Whatever her reasons for laughter were, I couldn’t see it any other way than embarrassing. I slid instinctively away from her, crossing my arms and looking in the other direction.  
  
          My feeling of self-consciousness was assuaged when she stood up and bent at her hips in front of me, looking me in the eyes again. “ _Arigatou_ ,” she said, smiling brightly. She placed a gentle, sweet kiss on my forehead, tickling my skin.  
  
         The impulse crossed my mind to try and take things further than that, but before I could, the horns sounded for dinner. Miku tugged playfully at my hands then, coaxing me off of the bench.  
  
          “Where are we going?” I asked.  
  
          “ _I_ am going to dinner,” she replied coyly. “Come on! I heard that we’re having a really good dessert tonight. Or at least, that's what I heard, but sometimes you can't trust what somebody says; what if they're just making it all up for spite?”  
  
          “Is that what you’d rather have right now?” I asked.  
  
          Her hair swished as she released her grip on me and looked toward the canteen, nodding happily. “Absolutely! Dessert is simply one of the best things you can have in life! Besides, you weren't expecting more from me, were you? I mean, it's not that I wouldn't be flattered if something really were going on here, but I'm really just confused...”

         Was this a moment of truth? Should I confess something? Get her to stay?

          Then again, if she really had to ask...  
           
          I shrugged. "No, I suppose not."

          Miku giggled, casting a glance at me over her shoulder. "Silly! Let's go. I don't want to get beaten there!"  
  
          She skipped in the direction of the canteen, all but too quickly leaving me in the dust. It looked like our little moment, however sweet, was more platonic than I’d hoped.  
           
          I sighed and continued walking alone, vainly trying to figure out just what was up with her; even in her relatively simple approach to life, I was sure an entire book could be written about MIku's thought process in itself.  
           
          Of course, I could say that about any of the girls who’d put a bit of attention my way since arriving.        

* * *

  
          As usual, a long line of pioneers greeted us as we tried to get indoors. Unlike Miku, I was not much of a line cutter. With her slender frame, she was easily able to snake around everyone while I stood and waited with the others.  
  
          The queue moved smoothly, though, and I made it to the serving counter before very long.  
  
          However, just as I was about to get the main part of the meal, I felt a familiar tapping on my shoulder; the same digging, annoying jack-hammering that I’d experienced days before.  
  
          “Come over here.” Alisa stood behind me, looking her usual aggressive self. “I have something for you.”  
  
          “Hold on. Not done here.” I replied, holding out my plate once more.  
  
          She tapped my shoulder again, this time making a point of really digging in; like grinding in my bones. “You don’t want that. Just get over here.” She began to tease me, whistling at me like a dog. "Come on, Dudley."  
  
          I gritted my teeth slightly. “You really going to keep calling me that?”  
           
          She frowned with annoyance. “I will if you keep acting like a dork! Now come with me!"  
           
          Regretfully, I abandoned my place in line and grudgingly followed _Dva-Cheh_. Hopefully, whatever this was would be worth missing dinner.

          I was led to a more cramped corner of the canteen, where empty seats awaited us. Amidst the usual tableware was a particularly large platter with a few big fish that had been grilled over a fire.  
           
          “Have a seat.” She invited me, taking the very end of the long table as though leading some sort of business meeting.  
           
          I sat down and had a look at the deceased aquatic animal before me: fat and healthy, with silvery scales, charred lightly on the outsides. They looked edible. “You catch these?” I asked.  
           
          She nodded with a proud smile. “It was a good day. They were actually biting this time.”  
           
          I shrugged. Never turn down a girl who gives you her fish, I suppose.  
           
          We proceeded to eat. It'd been a while since I’d had fish for dinner, but I wasn't fazed. After making quick work of the spine, the meaty parts of the fish practically melted in my mouth.  
           
          As I ate, Alisa observed me from the corner of one eye as though we were leaders of rival nations, wondering if the other was going to reach for a gun. She finally made a non-committal statement; a chuckle.

          "What's up?"

          "I was kinda hoping you'd choke on a bone or something. I thought you Americans were all into cheeseburger-Donald's."

          I nearly choked at her biased and clumsy interpretation of what could definitely fit Americans in the twenty-first century. Luckily I managed to keep it down. "Not this one. Grew up eating fish and other weird stuff. Asian mother. Kinda happens that way."  
           
          “Ohh…” she tilted an eyebrow. “That’s… interesting, I guess. I knew something was wrong with you having a last name that sounds  _Polski,_ but looking nothing like it.”  
           
          I shrugged. “Most Americans are mutts. It’s commonly said that we’re a ‘Heinz 57’. Well, I’m more of a banana ketchup.”  
           
          She laughed, nonchalantly brushing a few loose strands of hair over her ear. “How’s that, now?”  
           
          I explained the best I could about the iconic American ketchup company and their slogan, however even I was a bit shady on the details. “Basically, a mixture of many different parts.”  
           
          “Hm.” She nodded. “So where does banana ketchup come in?”  
           
          “Filipinos prefer a ketchup that’s a bit spicier and has the sweetness of banana mixed in.”  
           
          She thought this one over for a second or two. “Sounds kinda gross.”  
           
          “Hey, that’s me you’re talking about,” I teased.  
           
          This was met with a grin. “Well, _you’re_ kinda gross!”  
           
          I took a few bites of my meal. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”  
  
          “Tried what?” she asked, her eyes conveying a sly curiosity.  
  
          “…Banana ketchup.”  
  
          She practically cackled. “You’re such a dork!”  
          
          Conversation halted for a minute or two. Eventually I felt it was my turn to bring things back.  “Your dad teach you to fish, or something?”  
  
          She took a quick swig of her kompot, working through her meal with gusto that could match mine. “Yeah. Why?”  
  
          “I’m impressed. Still surprised that you offered one of these to me.”  
  
           She shrugged. "It's an end to arms. We’re not fighting anymore, so why not share?”  
  
          “Fair enough. Keep being diplomatic and maybe they’ll make you an ambassador as well.”  
  
          She winked. “I’ll go for that. Films and music from the west would be worth it.”  
  
          “Yeah? Which ones do you know?”  
  
          She was lost in thought for a few moments. “Hm… there was one with a popular song from Simple Minds. The movie with kids in detention... pretty girl, a nerd, some weird _gopnik_...”  
  
          “Hm… _The Breakfast Club_?”  
  
          She nodded. “Yep! That’s it. I have that one on a tape somewhere. A friend gave it to me.”  
  
          “I liked that one. Been years since I last saw it.”  
  
          “Years?" She was confused. "It only just came out, didn’t it?”  
  
          Maybe it had. I wasn’t sure of the release dates of 80s films, and I didn’t have the luxury of pulling up IMDB to check. “Yeah, I was just exaggerating.”  
  
          Alisa thought about it a little more. “And there was one with that actor who played a boxer, Rocky what’s it… a film where cops are all over him. He was a war hero or something…”  
  
          “ _Rambo_.”  
  
          A grin and a nod. “That’s it! _Rambo_.” The way she rolled the "R" when she spoke tickled my ear. “That one was alright.”  
  
          “I’m surprised it made it all the way over here. And you watched  _Rocky_ , right?”  
  
          She became even more excited by this, slapping her hands on the tabletop. Apparently, movies were a favorite topic of hers. “I’ve seen all of them. Even the last one where he fights a Soviet. That one was hard to find. Guaranteed illegal.”  
  
          I laughed, then stared her straight in the face, doing my best to look expressionless; a hard task for me. “I must break you.”  
           
          She smirked in response. “Don't threaten me with good times, Ivan Drago.”  
  
          It was a treat to pass time with some idle chit-chat about things I actually knew. For once I didn’t feel so disconnected from the life I’d left. “Do a lot of American movies make it over here?” I asked.  
  
          She shook her head. “Not really. Iron curtain is heavy, even with Gorbachev. They’re normally at video salon, not cinema.”  
  
          “Video salon?”  
  
          “You’ve never heard of one?”  
  
          I shook my head. “Can’t say that I have. Is it like a place where you rent tapes?”  
  
          “Something like that. Except they have showings in a back room or basement. Usually costs a ruble or so to get in. Like a cinema, but not.”  
  
          “Hm, so… it’s illegal?”  
  
          She shooshed me. “Maybe. Sometimes cops show up. Sometimes they come to watch, too.” She eyed me sarcastically. “Stay here long enough and you might go to one.”  
           
          I sipped my kompot carefully, attempting to be a bit smooth. “You’re asking me out?”  
  
          “What? No!” she declared spitefully. “I’m saying… you could be at one. Lots of places have them.”  
  
          I shrugged. “I’m game, except I don’t have a ruble to my name. Unless American dollars are worth something here.”  
  
          She bit her lip reflectively, as though processing several thoughts at once. “You may be surprised.”  
  
          We continued to banter back and forth. After some time, Ulyana joined the table, carrying a full plate of meat, potatoes and buns, sitting across from me and immediately grabbing one of the remaining fish with her bare hand, happily adding it to her pile of riches.  
  
          “Where’ve you been?” Alisa asked, playfully batting her counterpart’s wrist as the pillaging took place.  
  
          “The infirmary, where else?” The younger girl immediately began to dig into the large brisket-style steak that everyone else had gotten for dinner.  
  
          “Still? There’s not much to see. Just Electronik lying there, all _pod káyfom_.”  
  
          I nodded. “With every girl fawning over him, tending to his needs…”  
  
          Alisa proceeded to tease me, taking on a cutesy, antagonizing tone. I half-expected her to reach out and pinch my cheeks. “ _Aww_ , is someone jealous? Important Mister Ambassador not getting attention like he deserves?”  
  
          I went along with it, drooping my face and sticking out my lower lip. “…Yes.”  
  
          Ulyana giggled. “Cheer up! Once he’s better, we’ll ignore him like usual!”  
  
          She was elbowed by her roommate, who decided to interrogate. “By the way, what’s with the fire extinguisher that you left in the cabin? What are you going to do with it?”  
  
          This was contemplated for less than half a second. “I dunno. Maybe give it back?” Ulyana replied.  
  
          “ _Haw!_ Yeah right… I’m sure we could have fun with it.”  
  
          I gave them both an incredulous look, although mainly pointed my question at the younger one. “Wait, you kept the fire extinguisher? That’s not just irresponsible, that’s totally heinous!” I scolded. “The lab needs that, you know.”  
  
          Alisa eyed me suspiciously. “Wanna do something about it, Dudley? You wouldn’t turn in your friends, would you? Not after all we've been through!”  
  
          In a way, I had actually turned Shurik over to the proper authorities earlier; more like he’d willfully surrendered himself. “No, I’m just saying you should give it back. Why make more trouble?”  
  
          It appeared that I wasn’t being listened to. The two immediately dropped the topic, but their clandestine glances told me that the item in question would remain with them until they could figure out a use for it; good or evil.  
  
          Hell, what good could come? Of course it’d be evil and dastardly!  
  
          Alisa had a mischievous glint in her eye as she shifted back to the earlier topic. “Anyway, aren’t you going to bring some food to the infirmary?”  
  
          “Huh? Why would I do that?” Apparently, Ulyana’s brain couldn’t concentrate on both food and boys at the same time, and when push came to shove, she chose the universally tastier option.  
  
          “Why else? Got to keep ahead of your competition.”  
  
          Ulyana tried to play it off cool, but I could see her face slowly reddening. “Competition? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  
  
          I chose to get in on the fun. “You think Electronik will be better by the movie tonight?”  
           
          “Hopefully!” she replied.  
  
          “So he can be your _date?_ ” I chuckled.  
  
          Her baby-face became even redder, puffy cheeks turning as red as apples. “N—no…! Stop it…”  
  
          I simply couldn’t help myself. Watching her get flustered was a nice payback for her earlier pestering. “You two gonna sit together and hold hands in the tall grass?”  
  
          She looked to Alisa, but her counterpart wasn’t coming to her rescue; she was smirking along with my queries. “Don’t...” she whined.  
  
          “ _Don’t_ what? Talk about the future with you and all the little blonde and red-haired babies you’re…”  
  
          I was immediately kicked from under the table. I wasn’t sure who did it, but it was a powerful blow to my thigh. “ _Ow!_ Okay, I deserved that.” I conceded.  
  
          “We’re not doing _that_ ,” Ulyana insisted, pointing at me with a fork that was shaking in her fingers. She began to look genuinely embarrassed, her eyes traveling back and forth nervously.  
  
          “That’s right, that thing you claim to already know about.”  
  
          She scoffed. “I _do_ know about it! And that’s not going to happen!” She declared. Holding her fork in the wrong manner, she proceeded to shovel food into her mouth at a gratuitous rate, as though she could somehow bury her troubles deep in her stomach, covered up by gobs of meat and potatoes.  
  
          “Hey, careful there," I warned. "You’re going to choke.”  
  
           She tried to issue a retort, but with her mouth full, her words were unintelligible. She struggled to swallow and eventually did, settling back in her chair, a glint of sweat on her forehead and quite the dazed look in her eyes.  
  
          “Serves you right, _doora!_  What are you trying to do, make yourself puke?” Alisa asked.  
  
          Looking back and forth at the two of us, Ulyana pushed herself away from the table, looking quite annoyed, popping a vein. “I don’t have to tolerate this. Later!”  
  
          With that, she stood up and stomped off into the crowded canteen, disappearing from view in a flash.  
  
          Neither of us seemed ready to compute this in a hurry, and we were silent for a good minute or two before resuming conversation.

          “Was it something I said?” I asked.  
  
          Alisa, who'd taken to twisting the blunt tip of a butter knife into her palm, shrugged. “I don’t know.”  
           
          “I guess we were kinda ganging up on her.”  
           
          “Whatever. She’ll get over it. Besides, that was mostly you.”  
  
          “Me?”  
           
          She slapped the butter knife onto the tabletop with a loud crack. “You don’t make fun of a girl when she likes someone! Especially someone like her; do you even know how old she is?” she scolded.  
  
          “Of course. What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
          “Think about it. Could you think straight when ‘things’ started happening to your body? Is it still happening for you?”  
  
          Her question made me shiver a bit; not so much from the subject matter, but from how bluntly she asked. “I’m fine, thanks. But yeah, I get what you’re saying.”  
  
          Her expression seemed to soften a bit; she’d been glaring at me. “You have a hard time being nice to girls, don’t you?”  
  
          “You’re kidding, right?”  
  
          “I know you saw me earlier when you were having your quarrel with the little bookworm. Even saved your life at the infirmary. She came with me to see Electronik.”  
  
          Interesting. So that was what she was up to. “Well, a few points on her side, then. That was what we were arguing about, you know.”  
  
          Alisa shrugged. “I don’t really care. But now you owe me a favor.”  
  
          “I do? Jeez, you and Ulyana both.”  
  
          She winked. “Fair’s fair!”  
  
          I waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine… I guess I should go apologize to Ulyana, right?”  
  
          “And leave me here alone? I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll just bring her some food later.”  
  
          I nodded, but gave Alisa a sideways glance; she wasn’t looking at me, but past me. When did it suddenly matter to her if I left her alone?  
  
          _Thinking too much of it.  
_  
          Her eyes trailed upward, then narrowed slightly. Olga Dmitrievna had wandered in our direction, making her rounds. The camp leader looked at the two of us curiously. “Well now, I see that you two really are getting along. That’s very good.”  
  
          “We’re the best of friends now.” Despite a gratuitous wink, there was no way that she wasn’t being a slight bit sarcastic. Things had been pleasant, but I doubted that we were buddies just yet.  
  
          Olga sighed. “Dvachevskaya, why do you insist on wearing your uniform in such a manner? Baring half of your body like that isn’t proper.”  
  
          Alisa frowned. “Says who? Nobody’s being bothered by it.”  
  
          The camp leader looked down at her authoritatively; obviously, somebody was being bothered, and her name was Olga. “It makes men act like savages, and other girls may begin to follow! Such a thing does not have a place in Leninist society!”  
  
          Such reasoning didn’t make Alisa falter. “That’s the boys’ fault if they want to be perverts! They’d stare no matter what!”  
  
          “And they don’t need help with you encouraging it!” Olga husked herself up in the usual manner, fists on her waist.  
  
          I began to wonder if I could escape the area; I was directly in the crossfire. However, taking a quick glance around, I was trapped. I had Alisa, two walls, an empty chair and the camp leader. Those were the only options.  
  
          The rebel wasn’t through, not by a long shot. “They do! Gotta give them at least _something_.”  
  
          Olga bit her lip. “Explain,” she said; in the shortest, most concise manner before being sentenced to death, is what I believed she meant.  
  
          “Come on… you should know.”  
  
          “I don’t.”  
  
          They exchanged dirty looks. Maybe it wasn’t too late to duck under the table. Grab the bull by the horns, as Ulyana would say.  
  
          “Boys just get more tempted to rip it off if you don’t give them at least something to look at. Or they’ll sneak into cabins at night and steal underwear.”  
           
          There was no stopping Alisa’s roll now. Olga tried to interject, but got steamrolled.  
           
          “They’ll throw water balloons at you on a hot day. Or, worse a _cold_ day. At least I can be exposed because I want to be, not because I was forced! And what about bathing suits? Of course we have them. Aren’t they even worse?”  
  
          The camp leader finally jumped in. “Swimwear isn’t allowed in the canteen. And more importantly, it is disrespectful to the uniform itself. Now, please fix it, and let’s not have this discussion again.”  
  
          Good old bureaucracy. Dodge ethics, go right to policy.  
  
          I sat back during this exchange, knowing better than to offer an opinion. I wasn’t sure whose side to take; in my eyes they both had their points.  
  
          Alisa finally caved and began to untie the knot holding her shirt together. “Fine.”  
  
          I really wanted to catch an eyeful of whatever Alisa was packing under her shirt while she did this, but Olga’s imposing presence next to me was strong enough to pull my attention back toward her. She spoke directly to me. “Brion, I have a task for you at tonight’s film screening. It will be dark in a couple of hours, so please meet me there when you’re finished here.”  
  
          “Will do.”  
  
          With an appreciative smile, the camp leader walked past us and headed down the next row of tables.  
  
          Meanwhile, Alisa had regrettably buttoned her shirt back up, expertly hiding her goodies from view. Understandably, she was grumbling under her breath. “Damn fascist _grumblegrumble_ … tell me what to do... _hmph_.”  
  
          “You okay over there?”  
  
          “Shut up.” She eyed me moodily.  
  
          I casually took a drink. “I don’t particularly mind you either way.”  
  
          “I said _shut up!”_  
  
  
          I did as I was told. However, as the meal progressed, Alisa’s cheeks stayed a fairly obvious rouge-red. It was hard to tell if it was because of her being angry or because of my moral support.  
           
          Finally, I was finished. I carefully stood, taking my plate with me. “Well, thanks a lot for dinner. I enjoyed it.”  
  
          “You going?” she asked.  
  
          I shrugged. “Guess I should talk to our fascist leader. Can’t leave _Il Duce_ waiting, right?”  
  
          Alisa cracked a wry smile. “Off you go again, Dudley. Fine. Hey, um, maybe I’ll…” she paused. A rather pregnant pause.  
           
          “Maybe you’ll…?”  
  
          She shook her head. “Nothing. See you tonight.”

          A short meeting with Olga Dmitrievna later, I was handed the task of being an usher for the night's event. Apparently I hadn't lost value in the camp leader's eyes as her new go-to guy.  
           
          I'd been an event guard at the very start of my working life, so it wasn't a foreign concept to me, but it still bummed me out that I'd be working while everyone else was having a good time.  
  
          However, once the feature film hit their eyes and ears, I doubted that anyone would be having much fun.  
  
          I stayed there at the stage, watching the sun as it moved through the trees, the sky turning a bright shade of pink and orange.

          Night would soon be upon the camp, and then...

          On with the show.


	17. Lights, Camera, Awkward!

          Having tasked an unknown amount of pioneers throughout the day, Olga and Slavya had made the stage a far sight better than it'd been in the morning. All the dust, dead vegetation and trash had been cleared, and there was even the smell of fresh paint in the air. Over the stage floor, a large white backdrop hung from the overhead rigging, allowing for the movie to be projected onto it.

          As I stood at the top of the path, I took in the entire scene, amazed at just how much the camp had to offer in entertainment to its guests.

          Shurik stood at a station set up behind the last row of benches, where the projector and audio equipment were placed. He hadn’t been in the mood to talk with anyone since dinner; understandably, he’d had enough drama for one day. At the moment, he was working diligently to set things up correctly, doing the work on his own.

          Slavya approached me, having been suspiciously absent during dinner. She stopped across the path from me and smiled pleasantly. “Hi, Brion.” She didn’t seem to be under the same spell as earlier in the infirmary, which was a good sign.

          I greeted her in the same way. “Your box seat is ready, madam. Shall I escort you?”

          She giggled. “Absolutely, sir! I’m actually working tonight, same as you.”

          Olga came over to us; she’d been buzzing about, mulling over small details. In truth, it was the most that I’d seen her in one place at any given time. With arms crossed, she seemed to regard us both with a cautious expression. “What are you two talking about?”

          Slavya seemed a little surprised by such a direct interrogative. “Nothing… I just returned from the canteen. They’re almost ready.”

          Olga nodded, shifting her gaze to me. Ever since her little spat with Alisa, I’d expected her to hold some sort of grudge; birds of a feather, as they say. “Remember, nobody is to leave without an escort, and they are to come right back after using facilities.”

          Indeed, my earlier commands were to make sure that everyone stayed seated and be present for the camp function until the end; it did seem a bit totalitarian to really hold anyone there; what if the movie sucked?

          “Olga Dmitrievna, about the film… have you actually seen _Threads_? Do you know what it's about?” I asked.

          She lowered her arms, standing more casually. “ _Komsomol_ has given a description, which I have reviewed. In light of current events and your presence here, it will be appropriate,” Olga replied somewhat robotically. It made my skin crawl; she sounded like every meddling supervisor I’d ever had.

          “Are you sure about that? I’ve viewed it myself. Maybe we’d be better off with something different.”

          My slight act of defiance wasn’t lost on the camp leader. Her green eyes locked solidly onto mine. “It is required that we view this film and submit a report. Now, if we don’t watch and say that we did, what does that make us?”

          “…Smart?”

_Oops._

          She seethed. I could almost smell smoke. “I see that you’re following the example of certain dissenting individuals in this camp. We should make time to discuss that afterward.”

          Behind her back, Slavya discreetly shook her head, having shrunk away slightly. Whether she was telling me not to argue or was disagreeing with me, I couldn’t tell; not while under the gun, anyway. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

          Olga nodded. “Very well, then. Continue to set a good example.”

          With that, she turned and went to talk to Shurik, moving out of earshot of Slavya and me. Inside, my rage momentarily flared. _Suka, suka…_

          “Are you alright?” Slavya asked, genuine concern in her voice.

          I bit my lip, then briefly nodded. “I’m good. Just… voicing an opinion.”

          Slavya offered me her warmest smile, girlishly fondling one of her long braids. “Don’t be angry. Camp leader is just… worried. Being in charge of camp is a big job.”

          “I can imagine.” Of course, I couldn’t completely empathize, but I knew that the girl was doing her best to calm me down. “I guess I really look mad, don’t I? My face tells everything.”

          She laughed, a playful tone in her voice. “It certainly does!”

* * *

 

          The sun eventually gave its last before the surrounding trees swallowed it up; darkness fell over the camp, exterior lights clicking on around the buildings. At the stage, the cans popped and clicked as their bulbs came to life, illuminating the backdrop.

          Before long, every pioneer in the camp began to file in our direction. All that Slavya and I could do was idly stand by, making sure that none of the younger ones were shoving each other or causing a fuss.

          For the most part, the mood was relaxed, with everyone having enjoyed the large dinner and some leisure time in between. Not to mention that the heat and humidity had drained a lot of energy from most.

          “Gonna take my coat?” Ulyana teased me as she arrived, surrounded by a posse of younger kids, many of whom I’d seen almost constantly out on the fields, kicking a football around. Surely she ran in the same circle as them.

          “Five rubles extra, plus some spearmint gum.” I replied. “Feeling better?”

          She frowned at me. “I was until I saw _you_ again, Stupid.”

          It was hard to tell if she meant her little insult. However, a glance at Slavya and her less-than-cheerful expression at this exchange told me not to push it. “Alright, alright. Keep the line moving.” I told her with a hand on the shoulder, attempting to keep an orderly tone.

          She stuck her tongue out at me and went away. Almost directly behind her in line was Lena, who stopped and smiled at me.

          “Um… Brion, did you…” she stammered.

          Once again, Slavya’s attention was piqued. It accurately stopped the shy girl from going further with her question.

          “Did I…? Oh, you mean...” I shook my head. “Sorry, Lena. I still don’t have anything for you.”

          “Oh.” Lena’s sad eyes traced along the ground. “It’s okay, then.”

          “Is something wrong?” Slavya asked. She looked genuinely ready to help, as would be her usual want.

          “No, it’s nothing. Thank you.” Lena backed away and quickly excused herself, moving along with the others.

          Slavya looked to me curiously, attempting to put together the pieces of our puzzle on her own. I really didn't want to draw her into my petty little situation. “What were you two talking about?”

          I did my best to dismiss it. “Just a personal matter. Nothing to worry about.”

          “Are you sure? You can always ask me if you need help with something.”

          “Of course I can, but really, it’s nothing.” I told her with a smile and a nod.

          She didn’t seem to buy my answer, but let it go. “Alright. Just remember, you can always ask.”

          We didn’t speak much after that; just focused on the job. At one point, Zhenya quickly stormed past the both of us, giving me a sideways glare as though making direct eye contact would trigger the apocalypse. I was happy that at least she was being quiet for the time being.

          Once the crowded line began to thin, we took a quick head count. It looked like we were only missing four campers.

          Slavya ran down a list that she held in her hands. “Let’s see… we’re missing Ivan, Svetlana, Alisa and Alexandyr… I mean, Electronik. Although he's probably still sick,” she said.

          I nodded. “Probably. Should I go look for them?”

          There was no need to; as I asked, all four of our prodigals came wandering up the path.

          I was surprised to see Electronik up and about. He seemed none the worse for wear, obviously from the attentive care of Viola. Marching closely next to him was Svetlana, who stared at me intently as she passed by.

          “Hey, pal. Glad to see you made it.” I said to Electronik, patting him on the shoulder.

          With a voice that contained a slight rasp, the skinny blonde technician smiled. “Back among the living! Thanks to you and Ulyana, of course.”

          “And Shurik. I think he’s the one who should get the most recognition.”

          Electronik looked markedly shocked. “Shurik? That’s right… I should be manning the equipment with him! The projection apparatus needs more than one set of hands!”

          “You have done more than enough for today.” Svetlana scolded him, an urgent, possessive gleam in her eyes. It was somewhat discomforting to witness. She was talking to the leader of her club as though he were a child.

          What’s more: He was taking it! He stumbled slightly and quickly changed his tune. “Well, I suppose you may be right, Svetlana...”

          If anyone were to ask me, I’d say that Electronik had somehow struck me as slightly effeminate. However, at that moment he was more than that; the boy was whipped.

          Svetlana then turned her attention to Ivan, who was walking with Alisa; _Arm in arm!_ “Take his place!” she ordered.

          “Can’t you see that I am preoccupied?” Ivan balked, making reference to his apparent date for the film, who stood looking disinterested in this particular exchange. She was, instead, studying me out of the corner of her eye.

          “What’s that look on your face?” asked Alisa, smirking.

          “What look?”

          Her expression turned into a sly grin as she turned more toward me, lowering her voice. “Jealous?”

          I bit my lip. Man, did this girl have a set of stones! I mean, how could any red-blooded male not be just a little jealous of seeing a girl like her out on a date, especially when her date was nowhere near her level?

          “Well?” she prodded.

          “What if I am?”

          Her eyebrows lifted, and she looked even more proud of herself. “You could’ve asked… too bad.”

          “If I knew it was a thing, I probably…” I said, quickly stopping myself. “You know what? Never mind. I’m not jealous.”

          She seemed a little miffed; nothing new with her. “Liar! I _got_ you!”

          “Nope. Not jealous at all.”

          Alisa punched me in the shoulder; no power behind it. “You’re not making me into a fool. Just admit it, you’d rather be in his place. Right?”

          “If I do, will you stop talking?”

          She giggled; a deep, body-shaking giggle that could only be mustered by someone as dark-voiced as her. “ _So_ jealous… you’ve been found out, Mister Ambassador. I’ll remember that.”

          Meanwhile, Ivan and Svetlana were arguing with each other, barely audible above the noise of the other pioneers. I could see that Slavya was having a hard time listening to either argument; mine or theirs.

          Ivan finally turned to Alisa, looking up at her shyly. “Would you… like to help with projecting the movie?”

          The strawberry-blonde looked at him with a twinkle in her eye and an almost sickly-sweet tone in her voice – the same as when she was about to kick me into the grove full of poison ivy. “Of course! I would love to. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?”

          I think both Svetlana and I shuddered. This showing could become a bigger disaster than the film itself with _Dva-cheh_ near the helm.

          Oh well. Nothing that I could do about it; the decision was firm, and the four of them marched past us, leaving me alone with Slavya once again.

          “That was… quite interesting,” she remarked, a hint of awkward embarrassment in her cheeks.

          “That’s one way to put it.”

          She fondled one of her long braids again. “So you didn’t bring a date tonight?”

          I tried to stifle a laugh, failing. “With all the troubles I have? No… I didn’t even know that was a thing, to be honest. Besides, don’t we have plans ourselves?”

          A smile lit her face, a hint of joy in her eyes. “We do, don’t we? I’m glad that you remembered. Although if you’d had a date for the movie, I wouldn’t have minded.”

          I wanted to admit that it would take the world ending to keep me from meeting with her as she’d planned. Of course, saying that much would likely put me on the list for the looney bin, with Olga Dmitrievna’s endorsement. I wisely kept my overture tucked silently away.

          With that, everyone was accounted for and seated. The camp leader approached us from the path, a payload of two large sacks slung over her shoulders.

          Slavya was handed one. She hardly wobbled, even with all the weight. “Is this the ice cream?” she asked excitedly.

          Olga nodded. “One for each pioneer. Make sure that they don’t leave trash lying around.”

          Slavya looked at me. “Will you be fine on your own here?”

          I shrugged. “Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?”

          The two of them left to distribute the goods; I hoped that at the end, there’d be enough to go around so I could receive one of my own.

          Before long, the lights began to dim, and amidst a commotion of cheers, the projector’s beam hit the backdrop with unfocused intensity. While test images began to flash, pioneers made shadow-puppets with their hands, a few even sitting on each other’s shoulders to make a tall, wobbling abomination that fell apart at the loud sound of Olga’s scolding.

          The speakers crackled loudly as Shurik and Ivan worked to get the equipment under control. I watched with amusement as the two seemed to have a slightly heated dispute.

          Alisa, who was standing nearby them, nonchalantly yanked one of the cables loose, licked it, then plugged it back in. The speakers popped and buzzed loudly, almost like a cannon shot.

          With that action, the crackling was replaced by actual sound through the speakers; beeping as a countdown began on the screen.

          Finally we were greeted with two animated faces, both of them jovial in expression:  A gray cat and a brown mouse; it was a _Tom & Jerry_ cartoon. The extraordinarily violent animated duo seemed to be favorable even in the Soviet Union, as many of the younger pioneers went nuts at the sight of them.

          I crossed my arms, a smile on my face. Tom & Jerry had always been one of my favorite cartoons growing up. Watching the endless amounts of brutality toward Tom, the cat, could never get old on me.

          A few minutes into the short, a slender figure approached me from the aisle. I looked down from the screen to see Svetlana. Like myself, she had her arms crossed, but she seemed to do so more out of discomfort. “B… Brion…!”

          I looked toward her with a lowered brow. “Yes?”

          “I… should apologize to you for my earlier behavior.”

          “Which time?” I asked, wondering if she meant just now, earlier at the club, or when we first met. “That’s kind of your ‘thing’, isn’t it?”

          She stammered. “No, it isn’t!”

          I shrugged. “And?”

          “And I should thank you for all of the… help you have provided to the club.” She did her best not to make eye contact with me.

          “Is that all?”

          “And! And….” She looked back toward me. “And I should ask you…”

          “Should, should, should.” I mocked her. “What’s the matter with you?”

          Her pale face hardened, a bit of a vein popping out on her forehead. “I’m _saying…_ I ask humbly for your assistance.”

          “I swear, so many of you girls act high and mighty, then suddenly you want something.”

          She stared blankly at me, not sure how to respond.

          “What do you want?” I prompted.

          With a face drooping slightly around the eyes in nervousness, I was wondering if she was about to cry. Her lips quivered as she held her hands tightly to her chest. “Keep… your friend away from Electronik. Please.”

          With the backlight of the screen behind her, eyes gleaming, this all felt very surreal, almost like a joke. This girl had antagonized me from the moment we met, and was now making a rather ridiculous request, all while looking like a scared little girl; which she was, apparently. “Why?”

          “I can’t… compete with that.” She looked around nervously, as though Ulyana were simply going to pop up out of nowhere; I wouldn’t put it past her. “That girl is incessant, she’s rude, has bad manners, and… she simply doesn’t understand him or our work.”

          “And you think she can just steal him away?” I asked sarcastically.

          “Yes!” she nearly shouted, quickly calming herself as a few pioneers looked her way. “She can.”

          I looked over her shoulder, trying to spot Electronik, as well as Ulyana, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of anyone. “I don’t think Ulyana is his type. You have nothing…”

          “She’s a harlot! A shameless, panty-flashing harlot!”

          This outburst made my blood freeze. “…come again?”

          “Always… swishing her skirt around him, telling him stories, giving him bugs…”

          “Bugs?”

          “Insects, precisely. Candies, little notes… she does everything she can to win him over!”

          I sighed. “Win a guy over with insects, melted chocolate and heart-filled notes. She sounds more like a kid still, and you’re really worried? How old are you, anyway?”

          She huffed, brusquely moving past any of my bravado. “I see that you don’t have any experience in the field of psychology.”

          “I probably have just as much experience as _you._ ”

          Her eyes almost seemed to glow in the darkness. “Enough to know that Electronik has an insect collection? She plays a game and does it well!”

          I shook my head. I could see where she was going with this, but I honestly couldn’t care less about this little pocket of drama. I had my own problems. “Look, I’m not gonna get wrapped up in this. You want to deal with Ulyana, deal with her yourself. I’m pretty sure neither of you have a chance, anyway.”

          Svetlana looked at me with surprise and shock in her eyes. “How do you know that?!?”

          “Let’s just say… he’s a complete fool for some other girl, and if you’ve been around him long enough, you know who she is.”

          “The librarian, who happens to be pining after _you?_ Hardly worth mentioning.” She replied smugly. “I know for a fact that she detests him.”

          “She detest a lot of things. In any case, he’s interested in her. So cool your heels on the whole thing, and leave Ulyana alone. She _is_ my friend, after all.”

          On the backdrop, Jerry smashed Tom over the head with a wooden mallet.

          In front of me, it looked more as though Svetlana had taken the hit. She grinded her teeth, visibly fuming. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have apologized so sincerely to you earlier.”

          “Is there a problem?” To our surprise, Olga Dmitrievna suddenly appeared behind Svetlana, standing tall and imposing, as always.

          “ _Ny… nyet…_ Nothing wrong.” Svetlana replied meekly.

          “You should be seated. There is no reason for leaving so early. Let him do his job.”

          Acting efficiently whipped, Svetlana quickly bowed her head and made a speedy exit, fading back into the crowd.

          I let out a sigh, actually happy that Olga had saved me from more grief; quite the change after mentally cussing her out.

          She reached into the sack she was carrying. “Here you are.” I was handed a two-in-one; wrapped vanilla ice cream in a cake cone. “Would you like two?”

          “Two? No, this is just fine.” I said in surprise.

          Olga nodded, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?” There was a hint of a smile on her lips. Odd woman, mood swinging this way and that. She sounded more human at the moment than I was used to.

          “Damn straight.”

          She reached in once more and handed me a second cone, against my wishes. “Watch your language,” she said in a calm, almost friendly tone before heading toward the boys at the projector.

_Wow, okay..._

          After _Tom and Jerry_ was, to my surprise, an episode of _Rocky and Bullwinkle._ I wouldn’t have expected a cartoon made ubiquitous with two caricatures of Soviet people as villains being popular here.

          Nevertheless, it seemed that everyone enjoyed it. As thunder rolled in the distance, we were entertained by the antics of Boris and Natasha before the feature film finally kicked in.

          As the beginning credits appeared for _Threads_ , along with the stock footage of a spider weaving its web, I couldn’t help but feel a little sting of failure; I did what I could to keep the pioneers from seeing this film, and now here we were. Admittedly, I could have done more, but the day had carried enough trouble on its own.

          Slavya rejoined me a few minutes in. I was somewhat enjoying the English audio with Russian subtitles, but now refocused my attention on her. She looked a bit exhausted for once, having worked hard to distribute to everyone.

          “I’m back. Anything happen while I was gone?” she asked.

          I thought briefly of Svetlana’s feud, and Olga’s suddenly placid behavior. “No, not really.”

          She stood beside me, hands neatly joined together in front of her hips. “How is this movie? You said that you’ve seen it before.”

          “Truthfully?” I asked.

          She nodded. “Of course.”

          “It’s a pretty detailed account of a fictional nuclear holocaust.”

          “Well, then it surely couldn’t be bad all at once, right?” she asked optimistically.

          I shrugged. “Seeing people blown up and starving to death isn’t exactly what I’d call recommended viewing for young pioneers, you know?”

          Just after I said this, the young British kid onscreen asked his sister, “What’s an abortion?”

          Slavya’s eyebrows sank a bit. “This does sound a bit inappropriate... Well, I’m sure _Komsomol_ has reviewed it thoroughly, and if they recommend it, then surely there is some good in it.”

          Her faith in her fellow communists bordered on the naïve. Then again, I hadn’t been raised in this system. It was probably all that she knew; likely, she believed in it down to the core.

          “If you say so,” I responded, handing her my second ice cream cone; I really didn’t need such a luxury.

          At first she waved it off, explaining that she’d already had one, but I insisted. She then happily took it from me. “In any case, we’re here now, aren’t we?” she asked. “We have to see it through, even if we know the result may not be favorable.”

          “That a Soviet thing?”

          She shook her head. “That is how Russian people are. No matter the cost, we always do our best, especially where others are concerned.”

          I wanted to make a smartass comment involving twenty-three million who felt the same way, but it probably wouldn’t have gone over well. Those poor folks practically made themselves into meat shields for their government.

          In the end, despite all of that, the Reds won that war. They were the ones to raise their flag in Berlin.

          Afterward, the two superpowers reaped the spoils, and eventually grew to rival and distrust one another. That very vaguely described just why I was standing here, in the 80s, supposedly an American teenager who was conversing personal ideology with a cheerful, yet serious Soviet girl.

          Not only that, but despite a few human errors in the time I’d been here, she was the model for all others to follow. I could easily see her face on a propaganda poster, with her bold cheekbones and determined look in her eyes, masked just right behind a secretive veil of feminine sweetness.

          “Something wrong?” she laughed. “Are you sure you didn’t want this?”

          I’d drifted for a few moments and was staring at her hands, which were unwrapping the cone I’d given her. “No, I was just thinking of something.”

          “Of what?”

          “Of how far our countries have come. Striving against each other, and now… working together. Like us.”

          “I hope that it continues, _Tovarisch_.” With a twinkle in her eye and sweetness in her voice that rivaled her ice cream, her tongue took a slow, yet deliberate first lick.

 _Fuck_. I could only smile and turn away from her. For some inexplicable reason, her response and look had suddenly triggered a certain part of me to have a biomechanical reaction – one that could only be seen as proper diplomacy on the set of a porno.

_Bad, bad! Don’t do this here! Obey, dammit! Do not launch the missile!_

          Watching the rising state of worry from the everyday citizens of Sheffield, England was enough to calm me down fairly quickly; nothing sexy about impending nuclear doom.

          As the fictional tension between the US and Russia became clearer, I noticed a slight bit of conflict in our audience; a number of the older pioneers were squirming uncomfortably. The kids were somewhat indifferent and more or less lacking attention to the matter, but those who’d been growing up with the looming threat of World War III were markedly more stoic.

          “Have… you guys ever made movies similar to this one?” I asked Slavya. “Ones that the US doesn’t know about?”

          She looked at me with a slightly timid expression; not an expression that I liked from her. “Not quite like this. There are informative, short films from the government. They tell us –have always told us—to prepare for the Americans to attack by surprise. Without provocation.”

          “Damn. They really think we’d do that?”

          Slavya nodded. “When I was a young girl, I would hear of such things and find it hard to sleep. What if it the end would come then, while I was in my bed?”

          I shook my head. “You’re not alone. It’s probably obvious, but Americans pretty much think the same thing; we’ll be asleep when the bombs start falling on us. Not even enough time to wake up and ask ourselves what’s happening.”

          “Do you picture as we do? The faces of those who are attacking?”

          I bit my lip, swallowing spit. I was somewhat expecting a dialogue; the movie practically begged for it. To talk with Slavya, of all people… I was more interested in keeping myself in a good light with her, not so much my country. “How so?”

          “Cold. Emotionless. Perhaps even proud.” She sighed immediately after saying this. “Of course, now that we’re here, and I am speaking to you, I see that it isn’t so, but… do you?”

          I turned my eyes to the screen for a few seconds, then gravely nodded. “Your enemy only wants you to suffer. It’s not an unusual thought. Of course, I’d like to think that nobody would be proud to bring about the end of the world.”

          We were quiet for a minute or two, absorbing ourselves in the film. Would there really be Bear bombers flying over my country, piloted by beautiful, braided girls like Slavya? Pushing buttons, perhaps with a tear in the eye?

          “We fear nuclear war just as much as any other nation,” she finally spoke again. “When I look at it… Russian interests and American interests… I would think we are comparable. But the human interest… survival… that is truly universal.”

          I nodded, taken aback by her exposition. It seemed as though I wasn’t seeing Slavya the Soviet, but just herself at the moment. “That’s pretty deep.”

          She laughed lightly; a stark contrast to all around us. “I’m not very different from any normal girl!”

          “I doubt that, very much.”

          She elbowed me, as though catching my flirtatious comment and making me pay for it.

          Ivan came walking up the path. He’d broken away from the projector work and Alisa long enough to approach us.

          “Going somewhere?” I asked.

          “To use the facilities, of course!” he responded, looking rather cheerful despite the obvious annoyance in his voice.

          I looked to my partner. “First bathroom break, on me.”

          “ _Spasibo.”_ She mouthed silently, smiling.

          We were a good distance away before Ivan finally spoke up. “Do you really deign it necessary to accompany me to the toilet?”

          “Olga Dmitrievna deigns it necessary,” I answered. “Besides, I could take a piss myself.”

          He wrinkled his brow fantastically; his entire forehead crumpled, almost making him look like a Klingon. “Must you be so vulgar, as well?”

          “Vulgar? You’re dating the wrong chick tonight if you’re not into vulgar.” I looked to him suspiciously. “Besides, how the hell did you manage that?”

          He thought about it for a few moments, crinkling his lip before responding. “That would be a gentleman’s secret!” he proclaimed.

          “Uh-huh. Gentlemen are exactly what Alisa prefers.” I replied sarcastically.

          Failing to catch my inflection, Ivan simply agreed. “Rightly so! Others may find her hard to approach, but not me! Asking a girl out like a proper gentleman always works!”

          I rolled my eyes. There was no way in hell that this little weirdo just marched up to the camp’s biggest bully - and arguably one of the hottest girls in camp - laid down some massive game, and got her to go on a date with him.

          At least, that’s how I saw it. Damn, Alisa was right! I really _was_ jealous! I simply couldn’t fathom it!

          A little voice in the back of my head – the one that usually brought harsh reality to my doorstep – spoke. _Don’t get mad just because you didn’t bother to ask._

          Eh, whatever. I dismissed that voice and kept my mouth shut. It wouldn’t benefit me to tear apart the secrets of Ivan’s supposed lady-killer skills.

          After a quick stop at the washing stands, where I observed Ivan combing his hair to meticulous perfection, we headed back to the stage. On the way, a group of pioneers, led by Slavya, met with us on the path.

          “Send a search party already?” I asked.

          She cheerfully shook her head. “No, just a group for the restroom. I left Lena to cover until you returned.”

          I nodded and thanked her. Lena would have been my choice, too. For being so timid, she was a hard worker.

          In hindsight, I could’ve asked Lena out on a date, as well. I had plenty of opportunities to not be a loner in this camp, and was classically lacking in that regard.

          As we neared the stage grounds, it looked like Ivan’s date had gotten a bit impatient, as she stood there, having a conversation with Lena. Getting closer, it sounded more like a gated argument than friendly dialogue.

          “I can’t let you go.” Lena stated plainly, standing in the middle of the path.

          “I said I _have_ to go. What do you want me to do, run off into the bushes and pee?” One of Alisa’s eyes twitched as she tried to put her point across. “Because I will!”

          “I know you will.”

          “Move, already!”

          Lena crossed her arms. “Not until Brion comes back.”

          “The hell with him! Just let me go. I won’t take long.”

          Just as the purple-haired one shook her head bluntly, I stepped in with Ivan. “Problem?”

          Alisa glared at all present, taking a step back. “No problem.”

          Lena turned to me, looking positively annoyed. “She wanted to use the restroom.”

          I motioned to the path. “Well then, let’s go. If you don’t mind covering some more, Lena.”

          As expected, Lena didn’t seem to have a problem. She nodded, grateful to be relieved of this matter.

          Alisa, on the other hand, wasn’t as thrilled. “You’re really going with me there?” she asked. “Is _that_ what you’re into? Gross.”

          “It’s either that or sit down.”

          Alisa shook her head bitterly. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll hold it.”

          With that, she stomped back down toward the projection booth; she evidently had forgotten all about Ivan, who quickly followed after her.

          Lena looked at me sorrowfully. “I’m sorry. I tried my best while you were gone.”

          I shook my head. “You did fine. You didn’t let her leave, which is the important thing.”

          “Couldn’t… I have just taken her there, instead?”

          Thinking about it, it would’ve been a decent option. “It’s not your job… if you two go, I would have to go, as well. I don’t think Olga would like me just sending you two by yourselves.”

          Lena nodded curtly. “That makes sense. I guess she didn’t have to go, anyway. She probably just wanted to find Ivan.”

          As much as I wanted to talk about my feelings on that whole matter of them dating at all, I knew it would’ve been screwed-up to do so. “That a problem around here?”

          She looked about, cheeks turning pink. “It’s really just so we don’t sneak off to… you know, do things.” Her eyes quivered.

          “Things?”

          She looked more and more embarrassed by the second. “K… kissing. Things like that.”

          It made a lot more sense to me now; bathroom breaks were kids’ stuff. Olga was probably set on keeping campers from running off to make out –or do whatever the hell else—while everyone else was preoccupied.

          “Have you?” I asked.

          Hey eyes nearly pinpointed. “M… me?”

          “You know, snuck away to make out.”

          Panic built within Lena, like steam in a pressure cooker. She seemed to sweat from my question. “No… I’d never do that! Never… no. I wouldn’t.”

          “Oh, well… that’s too bad.” I was on the verge of jokingly making a pass at her; with my current job, I had the perfect excuse for pulling girls away to do exactly those things.

          However, Lena took a tentative step back, followed by another. Looked like she knew what I was thinking; either that, or the very topic was upsetting to her. Her voice became more mouse-like as she said, “Thank you for letting me watch for you. I should go back, now.”

          She barely waited for an answer before quickly walking back toward the benches, disappearing into the crowd.

          I let out a long breath. _Man, what a night this is turning out to be._


	18. The Problem With Boys And Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the one year anniversary of this work. Hope you all have enjoyed so far!

          Fifteen minutes later, the town of Sheffield was evacuating all of its firetrucks to safety in the middle of the night. Made sense; if the place went up, they’d be destroyed too.

          I wondered just what would happen, though, if some dumbass managed to set fire to their toast, then their kitchen, and eventually the house in that time.

          Well, considering what was going to happen, that was nowhere near being a concern.

          Slavya returned, allowing the pioneers with her back in. I couldn’t help but think of my discussional topic with Lena as she stood there, looking curiously at me. “Anything happen while I was gone?” she asked.

          I shook my head. “No. Everything’s fine.”

          “Good. I’ll check on things down there for a while.” She pointed toward the front row.

          “Alright. Holler if those hooligans start giving you trouble.”

          “Well, if that does happen, you’ll be like a brave _bogatyr_ , won’t you? Coming to my rescue?” she asked, fondling her braid again. Funny how it always seemed to find its way into her hands.

          “Er… um… of course I will,” I admitted.

          “I hope so!” she said with a giggle, slowly making her way down the aisle between the benches, looking casually to either side as she went.

   
          Almost brushing shoulders with her, Alisa stepped out of the projection booth as soon as Slavya passed by. It appeared to be the perfect time to pick up her cause once more. She sauntered up to me, overdoing it slightly with looking at ease. “Dudley…” she teased, “Let me out, will you?”

          “You can leave any time you want,” I told her, “But I’m coming with you.”

          Her ease disintegrated. “Come on, seriously? That’s a load of crap! Just… stop kissing up and let me go for a bit.”

          “Is there a problem with me being there?”

          “Yes!” she asserted, glaring. “I don’t need you there to listen in or… watch me do my thing.”

          I raised my hands in confusion. “What makes you think I’m that kind of person?”

          Her hands curled slowly into fists. “Look, you really want me to spell it out for you? I don’t want to watch this stupid movie. I’ve seen it before. It’s shit, got it? I’d rather watch snails fuck.”

          I tried vainly to process the mental image I’d been given; talk about a vocabulary. “Look, I’m not arguing on the movie. Too bad it couldn’t have been _Top Gun_ or something, but… it is what it is.”

          I looked over her shoulder, catching sight of the camp leader; she was currently scolding two other pioneers for apparently trying to escape the venue through the roped-off outer perimeter. For now, she was distracted.

          “Fine. You wanna go, then go.”

          I stepped aside to let her pass, but for some reason she felt the compulsion to stand there some more, looking at me with amusement. “No need to throw a fit over it, Mister Jealous. Kinda funny that you are, yet you seem to have it bad for Miss Perfect Pioneer.”

          “This again?”

          She stepped closer to me. “Come on, just admit it. Once. You’re jealous, and you want every girl in this camp.” She chuckled. “You want to tell all your mates at home how you were like a loose _p_ _etushok_... little rooster, you are.”

          A rooster. Hell, she might as well have gone and called me a “cock” for what it was worth. “What difference does it make?”

          “So you admit it?”

          “I… damn it.” I gritted my teeth and looked at the ground, then back to her. “You want me to say it that bad? Yeah, I’m jealous. Happy?”

          There came that sly smile again. “Atta boy. You couldn’t hide it if you tried.”

          “Right. So, are you leaving yet?”

          Her eyebrows dropped. “You want me to leave?”

          “I said what you wanted to hear, right?”

           She stepped by me then, but slowed her pace, looking over her shoulder. “Come on, Do-Right. Escort me to the toilet.” She laughed.

           
          As much as I’d fought for it, I begrudgingly followed her, walking along the dark path by the library for the second time that night.

          Alisa didn’t seem to be moving along at a very fast pace; apparently she had all the time in the world. It was a little difficult to keep with her.

          “You get off on that?” she asked abruptly.

          I nearly swallowed my own throat. “Wait… get off on... what?”

          A chuckle lifted her cheekbones. “Being Olga Dmitrievna’s trained muscle, like Slavya? Or… Oh, that's right… you do it _because_ of Slavya, don’t you?”

          I sighed. This was going to turn into another interrogation. I had to give her credit; she was damn good at it, despite being somewhat brash. “Honestly, the job finds me. That’s all Olga’s deal. If anything, I’ve been told not to get involved with anyone.”

          “Camp leader told you that?”

          “Right from her own mouth. You know, the usual lecturing tone and all.”

          “Of course. And… you’re doing it anyway, aren't you?”

          I shrugged. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do? Stay in my tent and play hide-and-go-fuck-myself for a couple of months?”

          Alisa laughed girlishly. “Guy’s gotta do!”

          “Yeah, well… the hell with that.”

          “So… the librarian, then…”

          “Next question.”

          Nope. There was no escape. She elbowed me, _tck!-_ ing as she did so. “Look at you! First week, and I'll bet you already nailed the bookworm! Did you two do it all over the library like a couple of freaks? And now she's mad because you're moving to your next conquest?”

          “You have a really weird idea of what kind of guy I am, don’t you?”

          She was lost in her tangent, once again. She reminded me of a few girls I’d gone to high school with; the ones that would usually end up in detention with me. I'd be there for not doing homework -- the girls would be there for being disruptive. “Now you’re reaching for the highest fruit of the tree. I don't blame you -- if I was into girls, I'd do her too. Totally.”

          It wasn’t what normally got me going, but the thought of Alisa and Slavya getting down and dirty gave me a warm feeling in my spine, not to mention a rustle somewhere else. “Good for you. I’ll let her know.”

          I was punched in the shoulder, making my muscles go numb. “Don’t even. You’ll regret it the rest of your days. You can try explaining to Slavya how your dick got tied in a knot.”

          I shook my head, trying my best to get my brain under control. As much as I enjoyed a girl who could spew filth from the mouth, this was not exactly what I needed to hear. “Noted. Look, I’m… fond of her, but I also don’t know what she thinks, so I’m not getting my hopes up. I’m just trying to get along, you know?”

          For some reason, Alisa didn’t have anything to say in response to that. She crossed her arms as she walked, then let them down, seemingly scratching her hip. Or her ass. I couldn’t really tell.

          “So, how about you and Ivan, huh?” I asked, knowing that I was treading dangerous ground. She’d been calling me on my jealousy, so it seemed only right to ride that train until the end.

          “Why are you asking?”

          “Hey, I told you about Slavya, so out with it.”

          I heard her take a breath or two through her nose before responding. “He’s… okay, I guess. Not a horrible date, anyway. Tries a little too hard. But he did have courage to ask, so… yeah. Could be a lot worse.”

          She tried to look away from me, but it was obvious that she had more to say, not wanting to give in.

          “You two gonna be the next hot item around here? Svetlana okay with that?”

          She stammered. “I… uh… well, hell with her, right?" She paused briefly, coming back a bit quieter, discreet. "It’s weird, isn’t it? Those two seem like they… you know.”

          I held my arms aloft as though playing a guitar, and immediately sang a twangy, horrible rendition of the dueling banjo scene from _Deliverance._ _“Ba-da dung dung dung dung dung-dung dunnng…”_

          Alisa looked toward me as I delivered my grand opus and immediately burst into a laughing fit, nearly in tears. “What the hell is _that?_ Did you just lose your brain?”

          Unfortunately, it seemed my reference didn't make sense to a non-American movie-goer. Still, at least I was entertaining her. “You know. They’re a little… down-south. Keeping it in the family.”

          She grinned; quite a change. “Gross! She’s doing it with her brother?”

          “Not _that_ far, I hope! God, no. But definitely… a little touchy and what-not.”

          Alisa elbowed me again. “Dirty boy. I knew there was something interesting with you.”

          “It was what you were going to say, right?”

          We turned on the path, heading toward the washing stands. “He’s kinda mad, you know. With his sister losing her mind over Electronik…”

          I coughed. “Yeah, believe me, I know. I know way more about that than I care to. She’s convinced that Ulyana’s trying to steal him.”

          “She is.” Alisa sounded rather serious in saying so. “I told you: Ulyana is getting boy-crazy. She even likes _you_ a little bit, ‘Partner’. You’ve noticed, haven’t you?”

          I bit my lip. Sure, I’d been treating my interactions with the little imp as innocent fun, but I couldn’t deny that, yes, she was steadily becoming a young woman. “Some things, yeah. I don’t have plans for her, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

          “Well, good. Otherwise, I’d be coming to get you.”

          I scoffed. “Really? Me? But Electronik gets a pass?”

          We stopped in front of the washing stands, the sound of trickling water from broken taps greeting us from the darkness. “He doesn’t.  I know he wants Zhenya. If I thought he deserved it, I’d kick his ass, too.”

          “Good to know.”

          The sounds of what I could only assume were the nuclear explosions from the movie came crackling through the trees; distorted, as though the speakers couldn’t take it. I was surprised that they were loud enough to be heard all the way where we were.

          “Sounds like we’re missing the good part,” I remarked with a slight laugh.

          Alisa turned her eyes in the direction of the sound, but shrugged. “Guess so. Big boom. Death. So long, Earth.”

          “Funny, I thought that would’ve been your sort of thing.”

          She looked at me with a slight hint of annoyance tainted with worry in her eyes. “Not… really. Not like that.”

          I was intrigued as to why Alisa, of all people, seemed troubled by such events in a movie. I had my doubts as to whether or not she’d explain why. “Well, we’re here, so I guess I’ll head back alone.”

          Her back was to me, and she turned around, eyes looking uncomfortably at the ground. “You’re really going to leave?”

          “Isn’t that what you wanted? No listening in, and you don’t want to watch the movie, so… unless you have other plans, I’m headed back.”

          Her anger seemed to flare for a second. “No! Just… wait. I’ll come back, okay? Just wait over there.”

          I did as I was told, stepping back to the path, a good distance from the washing stands, and thankfully out of earshot of whatever would be happening there.

          By then, the commotion from the speakers at the stage had ceased their distant screeching, and the sound of raised voices could be heard. I recognized one of them as Olga Dmitrievna’s. “Be sure to return, or you will be looked for!”

          Considering that there were two reels to the film, I figured that this had to be an intermission. Before long, other pioneers would be filtering our way.  
  


          And indeed, they did. Apparently we weren’t the only ones glad to be away from the nuclear holocaust spectacle for a brief period of time.  Within minutes there was a veritable crowd of white shirts and red neckerchiefs headed down the path.

          In the nick of time, Alisa rejoined me before the washing stands were swarmed. Among the group was Ivan, who had obviously come looking for his date. His eyes settled on the two of us standing in the path.

          “There you are!” he exclaimed.

          “Yep.” Alisa crossed her arms. “Here I am. Need something?”

          There was something noticeably different about her treatment toward him now. He wrung his hands together. “I was just concerned, is all.”

          “Everything came out fine in the end.”

          I couldn’t help but to burst out in laughter. Apparently I was the only one with a mind truly in the gutter, as I was alone in this. Not even Alisa caught on; I thought she’d been making a joke!

          “What’s so funny?” asked Ivan.

          “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I tried to control myself, but a snort or two erupted from my throat.

          Ignoring me, Ivan attempted to politely take Alisa’s hand; I noticed how it took her a couple of seconds to commit to doing so in return. “After the film, would you like to do something else? Perhaps go to the lake?” he asked.

          “I’ll think about it. Let’s just get back for now.” She took a quick, fleeting glance back at me before heading up the path with him.

          In the path, Lena seemed to be waiting for the washing stands, as there was now a long line. She seemed to regard Alisa and Ivan with an unblinking, somewhat cold gaze.

          “ _What?!”_ Alisa snapped.

          The shy girl recoiled, shielding herself as though she was about to get punched. “N… nothing!”

          Ivan jumped. Even I jumped. Just what had gotten into her all of a sudden?

          With that, Alisa made a hasty exit, dragging Ivan along as she headed back toward the stage.

          “What the hell…” I said to myself, approaching Lena. “Hey, are you alright?”

          She looked at me sheepishly, slowly lowering her guard. “I’m… fine.” Her voice was as weak as ever. “I just… we don’t get along. Alisa and I. We never really have.”

          With how we’d been getting along, I’d almost forgotten just how prickly and brash Alisa could be. Her erratic behavior would throw anyone for a loop. “Well, remember what I said? If she gives you trouble…”

          “I’ll tell you.” She smiled. “I… I trust you. Things are alright for now.”

          I nodded. “Good. How’s the movie? You going to make it?”

          Lena seemed surprisingly comfortable. “I am. I actually think it’s… fascinating, even though a lot of people just died.”

 _Fascinating_. That was certainly not the word I expected from her. Then again, Lena did seem to be the thoughtful type, reading Edgar Allan Poe, no less. She must have had a stronger stomach than she let on. “Yeah… I guess it does have its moments. The second half is… much more depressing.”

          Her expression seemed to sink a bit, but she held a very faint smile. “Oh well… it’s just a movie, right? None of it is real?”

          I nodded, reassuring her as though I were a parent letting his kid know that there weren’t any monsters under her bed. “That’s right. It’s not going to happen like that.”

          Her smile turned sweet, just enough to make my knees soften a bit. “Because of you, right?”

          “Because of me.”

          Pleased with my answer, Lena finally saw a space open at the stands, so we bade each other farewell.

   
          As I headed back toward the stage, I counted my lucky stars that Alisa hadn’t gotten on me specifically about Lena. To be honest, I was growing more and more to like Lena as days went on, but I knew that I would have to do something myself if I really wanted to take things further. I doubted that she’d be the type to confess, as Zhenya had done. She was far too demure.

          Then again, it was a nice thought. Perhaps those sad green eyes had more strength and character behind them than I was willing to give credit for.

   
          Good feelings slowly came to an end as I returned to the stage. At the top of the path, Slavya looked rather stern as she stood with Ulyana, who appeared to be trembling.

          Upon closer inspection, the girl was crying. Her cheeks were red as tears streamed from her eyes, yet she made barely a sound.

          “What’s going on?” I asked.

          Slavya took a deep breath and came closer to me, enough to where she could whisper. “She got into a fight. Svetlana slapped her.”

          Self-consciously, Ulyana covered her cheeks with both hands, but her tears wouldn’t stop coming. I tried to get a better look at her face, to no avail. “Over Electronik?”

          “I had to pull them off of each other. They were having at each other in the middle of the aisle. Can you believe that?”

          I felt a bit of instant regret for not being there to help, but was impressed to hear that she’d physically dealt with the situation on her own. “Where’s Svetlana now?”

          “Hiding from Alisa. She heard, she got angry. They both ran off. I don’t know what will happen…”

          Undoubtedly, Svetlana would be sporting a black eye or two if she didn’t stay a step ahead of _Dva-Cheh_. “Does Olga Dmitrievna know?”

          She shook her head. “Not yet. I really should report it, don’t you think? In fact, I will right now. Stay here with Ulyana, won’t you?”

          “Wait.” I caught her by the shoulder as she turned away, at which I felt a slight tremble. “Maybe we should let it go.”

          Turning back to me, she looked surprised. “Why? This has gotten out of hand. If we don’t tell her, more people could get hurt.”

           “I understand, but…. Couldn’t it make things worse, too? For you?”

          Slavya thought about it for a few seconds, and her face became stoic, eyes locking onto mine without so much as a micro-movement. Something about her seemed very powerful in that moment. “Alisa doesn’t scare me.” She took a breath before continuing. “Olga Dmitrievna can talk with everyone and settle the issue. That is her job, after all. I trust her, and so should you.”

          At any other time, I would’ve been glad to let a higher authority take care of something like this. However, my concerns were revolving around one, two, or even three of the girls ending up in the brig for the night.

          The camp leader could ask about the missing key. I could end up in there, too.

          “What’s wrong?” she asked.

          “It’s not that I don’t trust Olga,” I told her, “But this just seems like something that we could settle on our own. You and I; we could take care of this amongst ourselves. Isn’t that what pioneers do?”

          Slavya smiled warmly, but there was still something serious behind her look. “You’re not wrong. But… there is an old saying: ‘Every vegetable has its time’. It may have been time to talk about it earlier, but now… we have passed that. Others are going to get hurt. It’s the time to get the proper help.”

          She was right, of course. It became more and more apparent to me that trying to protect my own ass was only making things worse; the lowest item on the totem pole.

          “Okay?” she asked, her expression softening to its normal gentleness.

          I reluctantly nodded. “Alright. Go talk to her. I’ll stay here.”

          She gingerly took my hand off her shoulder, smiling before walking away.

          I turned to look at Ulyana. She was still in tears, looking about nervously. Now that her hands had lowered, I could see that her entire face was red; mostly from crying.

          “Hey.” I knelt down in front of her, sinking far below her eye level. “Hey, Partner. Can you look at me?”

          She sniffled, her nose running slightly. She was a mess, but nobody was going to judge her for it. Her eyes wandered about, but now she couldn’t look down at the ground without seeing me.

          “I’m sorry. For all the things I said earlier.”

          Her eyes wandered about some more, but eventually settled on me, wavering like she was going to cry again.

          “This boy-girl stuff is pretty stupid stuff, isn’t it?” I asked. “Makes your head all swirly? Your heart and your face starts pounding, and you try to act natural, do what you normally do, but… you can’t. And you don’t know why.”

          Ulyana dragged her entire arm across her eyes, unsuccessfully wiping her tears away. “Some… thing like that.”

          It wasn’t the best idea – mainly because the neckerchiefs were all made of satin – but I took mine off, untying the knot before handing it over to her. “Here. I’m not gonna miss it.”

          She took it from me with a shaky hand, and proceeded to clean her eyes and nose with it. Yep, I definitely wasn’t going to be missing it. “Thanks,” she said, shivering for a second.

          “You gonna be alright?”

          A tiny shrug lifted her shoulders. “I think so. It didn’t hurt very much.”

          “It was just… surprising, right?”

          Her eyes went wide in confusion. “She didn’t have to hit me… did she? Just like that?”

          I took a breath, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know. People do crazy things when they’re in love. Especially when they feel like they could lose what they care about. I’ve been there. I’m sure you will be, too. Someday.”

          Ulyana coughed, then looked about again. “Stupid. It’s all so stupid!”

          Her voice crackled, and I thought that she would cry again. To my surprise, she started to laugh, and a toothy smile appeared.

          “What are you laughing at?” I asked, now unable to keep from smiling myself.

          “It’s just… so stupid! All of it! All because of a stupid boy!” she giggled, sticking out her tongue.

          It felt weird to think so, but I was glad to see the little kid in her coming back out. At the time, that was likely exactly what she needed.

          By the time Slavya returned with the camp leader, Ulyana looked more or less herself, still laughing. To someone not in the know, it may have looked like nothing had ever been wrong. I stood up, brushing the dirt from my knees.

          “Is something wrong?” Olga asked. She seemed genuinely surprised, along with Slavya.

          “Nothing!” Ulyana took a step or two back, jamming my soiled neckerchief into her pocket. “Everything’s fine now.”

          Slavya was at a complete loss for words, but Olga wasn’t shaken as easily. “You look like you’ve been crying, Ulyana. I heard that…”

          “It’s fine.” I turned to them, shrugging. “Really. We worked it all out. Or we will.”

          Olga looked at me incredulously, obviously still not quite sure whether she could believe me or not. “I highly doubt that everything is fine, not after what I just heard. Where is Svetlana at, anyhow? I should speak with her.”

          I could help Ulyana’s problems, but Svetlana – Alisa as well, in that case – would be a more difficult nut to crack.

          “I’ll look for her.” Slavya said, still looking rather confused by the sudden change with Ulyana. “I think we should be able to take care of things on our own.”

          I smirked, remembering our conversation from minutes earlier. Looked like I’d won that round in the end.

          Well, almost.


	19. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening date turns into an emotional roller-coaster, where many truths are brought into light. We begin to learn more about the aftermath of another pioneer's adventures from the previous term, and what could possibly come in the future.

          Once intermission ended, Ulyana went back to rejoin her friends, effectively retiring from her drama with Electronik; for the time being, anyway.

           Svetlana didn’t return. Neither did Alisa; I guess that on top of hunting her roommate’s enemy, she finally made good on her wish to not watch the movie anymore. Ivan, suspiciously, remained to help with the projection.

           According to our headcount, Miku also had gone missing. I didn’t think much of it; after all, she was fairly aloof by default. Although after witnessing nuclear annihilation, I couldn’t blame her at all for slipping away.

           Despite the camp leader’s earlier threat, nobody was sent to search for the missing pioneers. We submitted our report to her, and once everyone else was seated, the lights were dimmed once more and the second reel began to play without so much as a hiccup.

           It was a pure act of divine grace that nothing else happened that night.

           I acted out my duty, waiting for any of the past conflicts to come rushing up to me and smack me in the face. Instead, I watched the depressing second reel without a word from anyone else.

           Before I knew it, the ending titles were on the screen, along with the incessant buzzing of 60-cycle hum from the film’s low-fidelity audio. _”THREADS – BY BARRY HINES”._

_Thanks, Barry. You’re an asshole._

          All pioneers were dismissed after that. I sighed in relief as they passed by me in droves. I heard many plans being made to stay up a bit longer. After all, it was the weekend, and those bonfires and ghost stories weren’t going to light and tell themselves.

          Once the last few had left, I stayed to help pick up some idle pieces of trash, making sure that the stage was left clean. I felt a slight sense of pride in the work, although this had been one of the most hellish days for me, physically.

          “Are you ready?” Slavya asked as I set two large spools of rope back behind the stage. They were heavy, but I was good for it.

          “For…?” I asked.

          “You know. Our plans.”

          I bit my lip, attempting to act coy with her. “We had plans? You know… I honestly forgot.”

          At first I thought she’d taken me seriously, but there was a glint in her eye as she gave a theatre-grade response of shock and dismay. “How… how could you? After all we’d talked about today, I thought we were getting along so well…”

          "I’m kidding.” I replied, trying to pat her shoulder to comfort her.

          She narrowly dodged me, holding her cheeks in her hands, eyes welling at the bottom with tears. “I really thought that you cared.”

          Wait, was she still acting now? The quiver in her bottom lip was far too real. Had I really hurt her feelings?

          “I’m serious, it was only a joke.” I added a bit more emphasis, hoping to get a positive response.

          “How could you call what we have a joke?” A slight shudder rocked her shoulders as she recoiled from me.

          “Slavya…” I’ll admit it, I sounded ridiculously broken at that moment.

          It was then that she dropped her bomb, the sad expression in her face immediately melting to a glowing, sly cuteness, a twinkle in her eye. “Got you!”

          My knees felt like they wanted to give out. I rolled my eyes, curling my fingers like Ulyana. “ _Agh!”_ I remarked intelligently.

          She laughed. “Come on, now. Be a good sport.”

          I finally was able to chuckle along with her. I’d been had, end of story. I should have known better than to try and fool someone as sharp as her.

          The sound and light of a flashbulb going off caught both our attention. I turned to see Ivan with a _Zorki_ camera, a huge flash mounted on top.

          “Hey, what the…”

          “For the scrapbook!” he quickly proclaimed. “Camp leader always insists on having many photographs of every year!”

          I didn’t have a photo phobia, necessarily. It just felt weird that my strange presence in this time, this world – whatever it was – was being documented for later.

          Then again, a picture of myself with the attractive aide of the camp leader wouldn’t be a bad thing to get my hands on at some point.

          Hearing our laughter, Olga Dmitrievna joined us behind the stage just as Ivan made tracks. She looked vaguely serious as she focused on the two of us standing there, having a good time unsupervised. “There you two are. Very good work, both of you. Despite a few difficulties, it was a successful night.”

          Slavya agreed. Really, she’d done most of the grunt work. I’d only acted as a meat shield the majority of the time.

          “Don’t forget your other duties locking up,” Olga continued. She nodded toward Slavya, who looked a bit surprised, turning toward me.

          “Something wrong?” I asked.

          “I actually did forget a couple of things, to be honest. I have to lock the gates and check the grounds. Would you be willing to wait for me?”

          Hell, I’d waited all day. And for others, I’d waited years. It would be nothing. “No problem. Actually, why don’t I come with you?”

          She politely declined, shaking her head. “It won’t take long. I promise.”

          “Alright," I said with a shrug, "I’ll just… take a walk by myself. Maybe check out that beach I’ve heard about.”

          “Great." She turned away, smiling warmly. "See you later, then.”

          Slavya quickly went to accomplish her tasks, leaving me with the camp leader. “So, do you and Slavya have plans?” Olga asked.

          I nodded, although I felt uncomfortable in doing so. For lack of a better term, we really were going out on a date. There was no way to hide it.

          Her look was unblinking, her imposing height working to her advantage. Well, only slightly. “I hope you have taken all that I’ve said into consideration. It is in your best interest, after all.”

 _God, not this again._ “I understand.”

          She stepped closer. I had a feeling that doing my patented “supervisor-speak” – giving the answers she wanted to hear – was not going to work this time around. “You’ve had a good first week with us, and I will note it so in my report. See to it that you continue to do so.”

 _Nod._ _For your life, smile and nod._ “I will.”

          The camp leader continued to stare me down. I actually felt sorry for Ulyana at that moment; now I knew exactly how she felt that morning, when she was caught with that chipmunk. What the hell was she going to do with it, anyway?

          Like a switch suddenly being flipped, Olga’s mood shifted, and she smiled. “Don’t let me get in the way, then. It’s a beautiful night.”

          With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone and stunned.

* * *

           Glad that it was all over, I speed-walked past the library, past the infirmary, enjoying the cooling night air. There was something effervescent and magical to it all. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe I was actually scared, but was riding on the wings of adrenaline – fight or flight response, horribly misplaced!

          Before long, I was in the square, looking toward the empty pedestal and cabins beyond, lights coming on in the windows. The song of crickets and frogs in the bushes created a soothing melody in the night.

          On one of the benches, sitting properly, was Lena. As I looked at her, a distant storm cloud glowed with lightning, casting deep shadows over her in surreal fashion as her gaze was directed from the book she was reading up to me.

          No words, but a simple smile she offered. I nodded appreciatively, only slowing my pace to survey the whole camp.

          Indeed, I’d been missing out on a rich night life, it seemed. At the northern row of cabins, a fire was being stoked in pit, pioneers slowly gathering. Quite idyllic, really. I almost wanted to join them, become part of the local scene. Out on the football fields, it looked like a late-night game was about to commence.

          However, I knew that I had places to be. Warnings or not, there was no way I was going to miss out on whatever Slavya had planned.

          I left Lena to continue her reading and headed south, eventually ending up at the boathouse. With a couple of exterior lights gleaming lonely out into the dark night, it seemed to call to me, welcoming me to sit down and enjoy the sound of rolling waters.

_Well, don’t mind if I do._

          With the slightest of breezes moving across the water, I collected a handful of stones along the way, sitting down on the wooden steps at the boathouse’s entrance. Like a kid, I attempted to skip a few of them on the surface of the lake.

          I sucked at it, for sure. That, and the water was simply too choppy; my few attempts ended with the stones sploshing unceremoniously into the abyss.

          So mundane, it seemed. Despite whatever reasons there really were for my existing in this odd place, there were moments like these where my actions were completely inconsequential. Causality, as far as I was concerned, could suck it for the time being.

_Learn to slow down a bit, throw rocks into a lake. You’ll wake up soon, now._

          I shook my head at that thought. If that was the real moral of my story, I would go back to my old life and promptly hang myself.

          “ _The quickest way to end a miracle is to ask it why it is… or what it wants._ ” The line from that old man in _Batteries Not Included_ made an awful lot of sense in that moment.

          With that, I spaced out, staring blankly into the darkness.

* * *

           “Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we go?”

          For a certain amount of time – forty-five minutes, according to my watch – I’d sat silently on that pier.

          I stood up from my miniscule pile of stones, greeting Slavya eye-to-eye. “No problem. Where we going?” I asked.

          She motioned toward the line of boats that were moored to the floating platforms. “Have you been out on the lake? It’s a beautiful night to do so, if you haven’t.”

          The thought had crossed my mind, but none of my days at camp had afforded me the time. Now was definitely perfect, particularly if she was coming with me. “As you wish.”

          After retrieving a pair of oars from the boathouse, we boarded the nearest vessel. Neither canoes nor kayaks, the boats here were simple, made of white-painted wood that had seen better days. In a way, there was something very _Somewhere In Time_ about them; all I’d have to do was start humming Rachmaninov at some point, and I'd be set.

          After sitting down rather clumsily, which elicited a giggle from my partner, I was handed the oars. She sat down opposite me in the bow of the boat, holding a bundle under her arm.

          “What’s that?” I asked.

          “A surprise. Let’s head out.” She dismissed my question thoughtfully, looking expectantly at my hands, which were clenching the well-worn oars.

          I didn’t expect to have much strength left in my arms after all the battery lifting and cranking that damned dynamo, but after a few failed strokes, we set forth, cutting silently through the water. After all, rowing is more about the shoulders, not the arms.

          Despite what she’d said about it being a beautiful night, being out on the water was slightly harrowing; there was no moon, only the stars high in the sky, gleaming brilliantly. The water was pitch black. The only other illumination was the faint glow of the camp and the occasional flash from a not-so-distant thunderhead. The sight made the hairs on my arms stand up; this was bordering on crazy.

          However, seeing Slavya across from me, wordless as she watched me paddle from the safe haven of Sovyonok was a securing thought. If she could be at ease at a moment like this, then I had no reason to not be the same way.

          We passed a boundary marked by floating buoys, and before we knew it, camp was far behind us. I looked briefly over my shoulder to see the lights back on shore, hearing the faint sound of voices singing campfire songs.

          “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

          I chuckled. “Nothing, really. Just lost in the moment, I suppose.”

          She nodded, stretching her long, slender legs. I could scarcely make them out in the darkness; like other girls in camp, she had a decent tan going. Her blonde hair framed her head in a somewhat ghostly fashion as my eyes adjusted. “It’s nice to do that, isn’t it?”

          “Do what?”

          “Get lost in the moment. My days are always so busy. At night, I feel as though a weight is lifted… understand?”

          “Of course.” I said with a smile.

          Taking the bundle into her lap, I watched as she shuffled a few items around, then produced a small lantern.

 _My_ small lantern, in fact. With the flick of a match, the flame glowed welcomingly, illuminating her features in a golden tone.

          “Sorry. I suppose I should tell you now.” She smiled, a hint of embarrassment on her face. “I have everything that you own here.”

          I stopped paddling briefly, thinking of what to say. Just what would be the reason for this? Did it have anything to do with the supposed surprise? “So… your plan is to maroon me on one of those islands, I take it?”

          My joke was slightly more macabre than I’d hoped, I admit. She frowned. “Why would I do something like that?”

          “To ensure the security of the USSR, of course. Trap the imperialist with his precious personal property where they’ll serve him no good anymore.”

          Playfully, she nudged my shin with the tip of her shoe. “Stop. I would never do such a thing.”

          “I’d hope not. So… why exactly do you have all of my stuff, then?”

          She carefully handed the satchel to me; it was heavy with all of the books and other junk I’d collected over the past few days. “You’re moving.”

          “Moving?”

          Her lips curved into a cheerful smile. “I was able to find a cabin for you. And… Zhenya knocked your tent down. I don’t think it will be coming back.”

          As much as I’d fought to keep that wretched thing standing, I was actually glad to hear that the smelly, confined structure of canvas would trouble me no more. “Well, that was awful nice of her.”

          “You two had another fight.” Her question was more of a direct statement of fact.

          “I figured that the whole camp would’ve heard already.” I shrugged, stretching away some tightness in my shoulders before continuing to row the boat. “Yeah, we got into it. I sort of… lost my temper with her. I was worried about Electronik, but she wanted to press the issue about us, instead. I gave her both barrels.”

          Her lips pouted slightly. “That’s too bad. She was really upset. In fact, I started to have a few doubts about you.”

          It was difficult to hear such things from her. Here I was, a whole world away from my everyday life, and yet I was still having to justify standing up for myself. “Slavya, I was only…”

          She shook her head, interrupting me. “I know. It’s alright. You meant to do well.”

          “Something like that. Trust me, it wasn’t something that I planned to do. But… you can’t please everyone.”

          She agreed with my statement, briefly placing a hand overboard to feel the waters of the lake. Something about it seemed to please her, a carefree air washing across her face. “It is true… but we can try, can’t we?”

          I silently nodded. Try… succeed, fail…  it was the simple math of a horribly balanced equation.

* * *

           After a while, I stopped rowing. Where we were, the waters were almost like glass, except for the occasional swell here and there. With the lantern between us, pitch blackness in the distance, it felt like we’d traveled to a different planet, or the boundaries between worlds.

          “What are you thinking about, now?” she asked, resting her chin on her hands, elbows on her knees. Damn, talk about beautiful.

          I chuckled. “Funny. You sound like… someone I used to know.”

          Her eyebrows raised. “Who?”

           “Somebody I was close to.”

          Strangely, she seemed to read my mind. At least, she hit in the ballpark. “Could it be that girlfriend I heard about?”

          I couldn’t help but to smile at my futility. “No, but close.” In truth, she sounded like my very first girlfriend – notorious for asking what I was thinking on a frequent basis. However, I knew it was a faux-paus to talk about exes to a potential mate; if I wanted to keep out of the dreaded friend-zone, that is.  

          I steered away from that topic. “I still feel… a bit overwhelmed. I guess not much has changed since that morning on the hill. Although… everyone has done their part to make me feel more at home here.”

          “You’ve become a great addition to our camp.” She agreed with a nod.

          An addition; I felt more like an accessory, but her compliment wasn’t lost on me. “Thanks. I’m glad to help. Even though, at times, I say far more than I should.”

          Slavya shook her head. “I enjoy talking with people. Often I feel that what isn’t said is most important.”

          My memory jarred slightly. _What isn’t said…_

          Her gaze upturned a little—guess my face gave me away again. “What’s wrong?”

          “Nothing.”

          She slid a bit closer to me, not leaving her seat. There was a bit of anticipation in her eyes. “If it’s okay,” she said quietly, “I’d like to know about that one.”

          “What… one?”

          “Zhenya mentioned. Only if you want to, though. You don’t have to tell me if it’s something bad.”

          I bit my lip, turning my eyes toward the dark water. A wave lapped against the side of the boat. “If I do, will you promise that you won’t think badly of me?”

          She thought about it for a few moments. “As long as you tell truth.”

          “It’s a long story.”

          “We have time.”

          As lightning glowed in the clouds, accompanied by the rumble of thunder, I began to dig into a part of my memory that I’d gladly have erased, if it were possible.

          “I haven’t spoken to that girl in…” I counted on my fingers, remembering what day it actually was. “Six months, maybe? Eight? I lose track of the time.”

          “How? What happened?”

          “We just… stopped. At one time, we were the best of friends. That’s how it all started... nearly three years ago. I remember it vividly; thinking ‘Oh yeah… she’s going to be trouble for me.’ And I was right. You know how you get that feeling about some people? You meet them and just kinda know that they’re going to change your life?”

          Slavya nodded slowly. “Yes.”

          “Well… anyhow, we got along well for a long while. She was just… different. She had a rough personality. She was aggressive and rude, but was still very much a girl; a beautiful one, at that. We couldn’t help but have a chemistry together. I really felt that after many failures, I’d finally found someone who was worth doing everything for; hell and back, that kind of thing. Somehow I knew that she’d bring many changes to my life. I welcomed them.

          “Eventually, attraction built for the both of us… we developed little crushes on each other… but by the time we admitted it to one another… she’d already gotten married.”

          Shock. An understandable reaction, as Slavya’s blue eyes widened. “Married? How old was she?”

          “Old enough. Things are… interesting where I come from. He – the guy that she married – was interested mostly in becoming a citizen of the US. He was a good deal older than her, had a few things going for him. She was living a poor existence: jobs that went nowhere; a crappy house in a bad part of town; guy after guy who would date her, treat her badly, all while I would stay on the sidelines…”

          Slavya straightened her posture, noticeably uncomfortable with the subject matter.

          However, the ball was rolling, so I continued. “So, when he offered half of his property at the end, drove a fancy car, had a foreign accent… things that attracted her that I will never understand… she went for it. Five years. A marriage by contract only, so he could earn citizenship. No love. Or at least, that was the arrangement.

          "Months into her marriage, she contacted me, told me that he was allowing her to see other people…”

          “And you agreed with her?”

          I sighed. “It’s horrible, I know. Love… tends to make us blind.”

          It looked as though Slavya wanted to respond to that, but she simply nodded. “And?”

          “So we began to see each other. He never really liked me –mutual feeling—and after a very brief period, he began to go back on his agreement. Apparently he was looking for more than marriage on paper. Nice of him to express that after the fact.

          "She always seemed so strong, but… things broke down from one compromise after another. Anything that she could do to appease him, to avoid an argument… she’d do. With that, there was no more ‘us’… at least, not in a formal sense. We would still talk privately, write letters, see each other in person every once in a long while…”

          “Brion…” Slavya’s voice was rife with shock. Dismay.

          I held a hand up. “I know. Just… hear me out. You wanted truth… or should I stop? Now that you know what kind of person I am?”

          She shook her head. “No. It is just troubling to hear.”

          I reached into the bag, fishing out a few pieces of melted candy; the last few that I had left. “Please. For the trouble.”

          She gingerly took them from me, her eyes registering recognition as she smiled. “Where did you find these?”

          “Sorry. A gentleman never tells.”

          She unwrapped a piece—caramel, from the looks of it. “I thought it was that a gentleman never asks, and a _lady_ never tells.” There was a slight bit of sauciness behind her voice.

           “I stand corrected,” I laughed.

          She carefully chewed on the sticky confection, looking pleased. “Please go on. I want to know.”

          I sighed, trying to remember where I’d left off. “Anyhow… we kept at that for years. We endured it as much as we could, even though our silence would grow between every visit. Eventually, we couldn't speak as much, couldn't see each other, couldn't say what needed to be said to keep each other happy and connected. All either of us could do was hold on to hope that things would get better.

          “He moved her out of our town… would constantly harass her about my presence in her life, although I was essentially a ghost.  He did the same to all of her other friends, until I was one of the few that she had left.

          “The wife that he’d purchased… She used to be fiercely independent, but he dictated her life, and she went with it. She would tell him that she loved him, would fiercely defend his selfish actions. I still don’t know for sure what was real in any of that.

          “I tried, Slavya. I gave every ounce of myself toward making it work. I felt that I could wait for as long as was necessary, give her the support that she needed in secret, all while she’d play out the role of perfect housewife for him. We waited for that day, despite every new compromise…

          “Finally, our last Christmas holiday came and went… and things went completely silent. My calls went unanswered. No more letters. No visits. It was like she’d vanished completely. And yet I’d hear through the grapevine – mutual friends – that she was apparently happy and in love with him. I guess he finally convinced her to leave me behind, although for years he’d simply possessed her. I loved her. I wanted the best for her.

          “I remember telling her once: ‘Please, don’t forget about us.’ And… she did. Damn it…” My voice quivered as anguish prodded at me.

          “Oh…” Slavya pressed a hand to her lips.

          “She walked away. After years of me shaping my life for her, losing so much just so we could be together one day in some distant dream… it was no more. I realized after a while that she’d only kept me hanging by a thread, doing just enough to keep me around, but would never try to fix things. I don’t think she ever intended to do so.

          “Once, she told me that she would never willingly hurt me or leave me behind, that she would always do her best. She said it the very last time we spoke, and yet… she was never one to make promises. Never even told me that she loved me, come to think of it. She’d dance around the words, but never, ever in our time did she actually tell me that she loved me. Not as I’d tell her.

          “Perhaps I’d been a fool for longer than I’d realized, but I never really had her. _She_ had _me_ , and then she let me go. She never lacked anything, and she still doesn’t, so…

          “So, I had to rebuild… on my own. I had to go on like nothing had ever happened, yet there was this huge hole. Emptiness! My passion for the things that made me who I used to be was simply gone. I felt hollowed out. Until recently, I could barely function the way that I used to, and now…”

          I was shaking. I didn’t notice until Slavya grabbed strongly onto my arm, bringing my body’s pulsing to a stop. Her blue eyes cut into mine. “Stop. Don’t tell more.”

          “Damn it…” I said through clenched teeth. “ _Fuck._ All a joke at my expense.”

          “Stop. It’s okay.” Her voice was filled with care and pleading. “You’re here now. Right here, with all of us.”

_Here. Where is here???_

          I wanted to interrogate Slavya, grab hold of her, ask her that exact question, but I knew that she wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t. I surely didn’t want to hurt her.

          “I’m sorry.” My response was nearly a cough. “I… probably shouldn’t have gone that far.”

          She shook her head. “ _Nyet._ Brion… you’re here now. You’re still yourself. You became an ambassador, yeah? You’re making it, even without her.”

          “Of course… but it still hurts. Somewhere out there, there are so many questions that I’ll never know the answer to. Maybe I shouldn’t know the answers. And you’re right: I’m here, but I’m followed by this ghost of once was.”

          Slavya let go of me, her fingers gently trailing down my arms. She looked as though she were about to say something important, but fell silent.

          We said nothing for a few moments, a group of waves lapping against the hull of the boat. There in the darkness, my monologue met its end, swallowed by the void that stretched around us.

          “Brion… let’s go to the island.” She looked over her shoulder. “It isn’t far from here.”

          I strained to see what she could; indeed, the land mass in question was at best a few minutes’ journey from where our vessel floated. I could spot the outlines of trees, ghostly in appearance, inviting us ashore.

          Taking the oars up once more, I propelled the boat forward.        

* * *

          Before long, we struck the shore, coming to a sudden halt. I set the oars down, carefully stood up, and climbed out onto a sandy beach that was littered with stones and patches of grass.

          Being a gentleman, I took her hand and helped her down from the boat, then pulled the boat further ashore to keep the current from sweeping it away.

          “Anything interesting here?” I asked, trying to make conversation. After my long tirade, I was hoping to get her going on something. Anything to break the awkward mood.

          Slavya took a few thoughtful steps toward the trees; large spruce, some oaks, birch. Much like Sovyonok, this land was rife with nature, but for the most part untouched. There were no established paths here, just spaces between the trees in which to walk, with thick grass that grew wild and uninhibited. I heard her take a deep breath as she looked back and forth, moving with a calm, serene air.

          Looking over her shoulder at me, she waited. I silently joined her.

          We slowly made our way inland, the songs of crickets and frogs in our ears. An owl hooted nearby, signaling our presence.

          Of course, it was dark, but my eyes had adjusted to where I could easily make out Slavya’s white uniform shirt, her red neckerchief and her golden braids. Her pace was slow and gentle, one foot in front of the other. A smile adorned her face as she took everything in.

          “Do you come here often?” I asked.

          She shook her head. “Every once in a while. Sometimes it’s nice to get far from camp. I love being here, though. It’s very peaceful.”

          It was a true statement. Depending on where you looked, it would be easy to convince oneself that this was the middle of nowhere. A place completely untainted by humanity.

          As we walked, my eyes were drawn to mushrooms that were growing wildly. Wildflowers, like colorful pockets of fireworks. A fog had seemed to move into the air, bringing a sort of ghostly illumination to us.

          “This is beautiful.” I breathed, now as entranced as her.

          A space opened in the trees; a glade. So much for my thoughts of this place being untouched; there were remnants of a campfire in the center.

          “Could you find us some firewood?” she asked.

          I nodded. With all of the vegetation around, finding dead branches and grass dry enough to set ablaze was easy. I gathered a heaping armful and brought it to the pile of rocks that had been placed ahead of us.

          Producing a match, Slavya set flame to the dry grass, stoking up a fire in no time. I knelt down and watched her work, drawn in by how skillful and focused she was.

          “Been a pioneer long?” I joked.

          She sat down on her haunches, a playful look in her eye. “An October Child, even. What about you, sir?”

          I shook my head. “I thought of joining ROTC once.”

          “ROTC?”

          “It’s a bit like military academy training. Voluntary. From… middle school and up, until graduation. I’ve kinda had a family history of military service.”

          She seemed amused by this. “Is that your plan? After you’re done being an ambassador?”

          “Far from it.” I sat down as well, looking into the flames that grew higher, feeling the warmth. I could see her much better now, her svelte figure pleasing to the eye. “I think my talents are better spent elsewhere.”

          “I think so, too.”

          “And you?”

          “Ecology,” she said proudly. “I want to study nature, botany, biology… all of those things.”

          I briefly envisioned her wearing a full-bodied protection suit, taking readings in the ruined wastelands of Chernobyl. Hardly ideal for someone like her… maybe in the lab? Growing tomatoes? Engineering the world’s most perfect potato?

          Hell, I couldn’t kid myself. I’d abandoned the sciences far back in high school. It was obvious through our few discussions that she had quite the brain going for her. “Should I tell you that you’ll be a natural at it?”

          Her smile rivalled our growing blaze. “It’s the best thing you could say!”

          Thunder rumbled overhead, almost like a groan at my pun. We turned our eyes toward the sky.

          “We may have picked the wrong time for a fire!” she giggled.

          “Only as soon as it rains. Until then, I think we’re fine.”

          She poked at the flames with a stick until it caught fire, then let it go. Her eyes met mine; admittedly, I was intently staring at her every motion. “ _Spasibo_." She voiced softly.

          “ _Mn?_ What for?”

          “For being so honest earlier.” She folded her hands in her lap, her posture as elegant as that of a dancer. “I’ve had moments where I’ve doubted you this week. Perhaps even been afraid of you, but I know better now.”

          I shrugged. “I guess Zhenya must have made me out to be a real bastard.”

          I expected her to pad my statement a bit, but she simply smiled. “She did. But you’re not one.”

          “Good to know. I never meant to hurt her, either. It simply… wasn’t meant to be.”

          “You told her instead of leading her on.” Her gaze seemed fairly distant for a moment. “It was right to do. I don’t blame you.”

          We shared a couple of moments. It was undeniable that there was some level of comfort being in each other’s presence. The more I looked, however, it seemed as though Slavya was looking through me, rather than at me.

          “Something on your mind? Truth for truth?” I asked.

          She shifted slightly, discomfort noticeable in her eyes. I waited for her to speak.

          “When you’d arrived… I thought you were him.”

          “Him?”

          The way she was looking at me now, I was able to draw a conclusion in my brain, which she confirmed. “I was hoping that he’d come back this year.”

          “Oh.” My eyes broke away from hers, traveling to the glow of the fire. “Sorry to… disappoint.”

          She shook her head, frowning. “It isn’t like that. I didn’t… think he would return. Only hoped.”

          “Someone special, right?”

          A sentimental warmth lifted her cheeks. “Of course. Not at first, but as you said: a feeling that he would change things. I met him at the gate when he arrived. He wore… winter clothing, of all things. I remember that very well.”

          “Winter clothing? In the middle of summer?”

          “I never asked. I did wonder to myself, just like that.” Her voice was cheerful. “He stayed with our camp leader. No cabins available.”

          Sounded familiar. Although, it was open for debate whether he was a lucky bastard to share a room with our buxom lady-commander.

          She continued. “Anyhow… it happened. As if from nothing, we ended up together. It caused quite a stir in camp. I remember… he argued with Olga. So did I. She was against us being together, for no reason!”

          The resemblance to what I’d been going through was remarkably familiar. In fact, I felt a chill in my spine. Something about this mystery man seemed very, very off. “What was his name?” I asked.

          Slavya looked as though I’d taken her by surprise. “Name? You wouldn’t know him, would you?”

          “Well, no. Just curious.”

          She bit the tip of her tongue, lost in thought for a moment or two. “S… Semyon. His name was Semyon. I don’t know how I could have forgotten, but I almost did.”

          Come to think of it, I didn’t know what benefit could come from knowing his name. Perhaps I was expecting another visitor from the west; somebody else who’d gone through whatever I was going through.

          I shook my head, smiling to myself. The chances of such a thing were likely infinitesimal. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

          “It’s okay. Anyhow, camp leader has never explained her reasons for her actions. Not that it matters now, after what happened.”

          “What happened?”

          It took her a few seconds to pull the details together. “It was our term's last week when he arrived. We… discovered our feelings in a very, very short time. My parents, friends... even grandfather told me, ‘You were naïve, Slavyana. It was summer romance, nothing more.’

          “I don’t agree with that. I never did, but… perhaps Semyon thought I did. He wanted to wait for me. I wasn’t sure. Even said he would move to me, live where I live, up north. What do you say to someone who says such things? We’re all young, you know? Do we really know what we want from our lives? We say ‘we can make it work, somehow’, but nothing is for certain, right? I couldn’t give him an answer. It seemed so irresponsible to even think about it.

          “So… we left camp together, everyone. I fell asleep on the bus, with him, and when I awoke, I thought that maybe he’d gone to sit with someone else. When we arrived at the district center, he’d gone already. Not a word. No way to find him again.”

          It was difficult to see such a beautiful face overtaken by immense sadness. It was the second time that night; when I’d paralleled her story with my own, I saw it then, too. Now, for her, this was her heartbreaking reality. “I’m sorry.” I quietly offered.

          She shook her head. “It isn’t… something for you to be sorry about. It is simply truth for truth, as you said.”

          It was my turn to keep the fire going, so I fed another piece of wood into the flames, pushing the burning cinders together with a long stick. While I did, she shifted to sit next to me. “He could come back, right?” I asked quietly.

          Slavya was thoughtful for a while, not answering until I’d finished messing with the fire. “I don’t know. He didn’t seem sure about much. In fact, at times, he was very lost. Sort of like… when you first came here.”

          I wasn’t sure how to take that statement. At least he didn’t have to deal with being in completely foreign territory, only able to talk to one or two people.

          “Do you think he’s moved on to other things? Other people and places?” she asked.

          I shrugged. “It’d be for the best. A person can’t stay in one place forever. Otherwise they become that place. And what if that place is empty?”

          “I hope he has.” She looked to me, pausing. “What if he’s not really what I thought he was? Did he love me? He never said. Never had a chance to. Like yours.”

          "She had the chance," I responded, shaking my head. "She never did it. Never in those years. Did you love him, though?"

          “It was too soon. Although…” her eyes went to the fire, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, rocking slightly. Her words fell short.

          The fire continued to burn darker. I added more wood, careful not to disturb Slavya; she seemed to be off in her mind for a few minutes.

           When she spoke again, her words were low, almost a whisper. She was looking directly at me, gently stroking a braid. “Would it have made a difference if we’d loved one another?”

          I thought about it. I didn’t want to tell her the truth; turning the question unto myself, I knew that I’d loved. At one point, I’d fooled myself into thinking it was shared, but regardless, it didn’t save us. 

          I eventually gave in. “Only to you,” I answered. “If you loved him, you loved him. But… by now, that's more of a wish, not truth. There’s the idea of love… the words. Then there’s actually loving someone. What you had while you were together… that’s what counts. It can’t keep people, nor bring them back. If they want to be gone… they go.”

          She shook her head, shoulder bumping against mine. Her body seemed to tremble for a moment. “At times I don’t know how I continue. The things I used to love, how I used to be… have changed. There is emptiness. It hurts.” She looked up to me. “Now that we’ve talked, you and I aren’t very different, are we? I have to rebuild, yeah? By myself?”

          I nodded. “Well… I don’t think you were shaken to your core, Slavya. You don’t seem that way. I look at you, and I see someone full of life. You could have the world in the palm of your hand, if you really wanted.”

          We sat in silence, watching the dance of flames, listening to the crackling within. It was serene, although I would have given anything to not think about what I’d left behind at home. I didn’t want to think about the emptiness anymore.

          We were both vulnerable, sitting there in the warm night without even an inch of space between us. Eventually, somehow, our hands met. Her grip was firm, her fingers slender and long.

          I knew for certain that I wasn’t going to do as I’d done in the past – making the mistake of kissing the girl on the cheek or the forehead. No more room for subtlety.

          Her lips were sweet. For me, something this marvelous was long overdue.

* * *

           The fire eventually burned out, and an indeterminate amount of time later, the thunder once again echoed above.

          We'd kept on for a while. Her lips finally left mine. It took a moment or two for me to realize that we’d been absorbed in each other’s warmth for some length of time, our faces touching.

          “Shall we go now?” she asked, her voice more or less back to its normal energy. “Storm could come any moment.”

          The thought of leaving now was nearly unbearable, but I knew that if we stayed there longer, I’d possibly ruin what had been a purely beautiful moment; simply kissing wasn’t going to suffice for long. “Will we be safe on the water? Maybe we should wait here for it to pass. If lightning strikes the lake…”

          Her smile melted my heart. “I will leave life as a happier girl.” She stood up, coaxing me to stand with her.

          The fire was now just a few glowing embers in the pit; hardly worth extinguishing, but we still took the time to drop some dirt and smother them.

          As before, she walked next to me, back through the trees. Only this time, we held hands the entire way back.

          The boat awaited us, partially in the water now from a slightly higher tide. It took very little effort to board and push away from the shore.

          Once I got the boat turned back toward camp, I paddled against noticeably rougher waters. I could smell the approaching rain, and the lightning in the clouds intensified, flashes coming every ten seconds or so.

          The entire way back, Slavya didn’t speak. She seemed more fixated on watching the lantern, which was still burning dimly between us. With her hands folded primly in her lap, she stared longingly at the little flame while I paddled, lost in thought.

          We were at the glassy portion of the lake when the rain finally started to fall. At first I heard it, but looking briefly over my shoulder, I could spot the thick curtain of water as it made its way toward us in the night, quickly overtaking our small vessel. I quickened my paddling, giving the very last bits of my strength toward powering us back to our home.

* * *

           By the time we got back to the boathouse and moored the craft, we were both drenched. I carried the satchel while she held the lantern, and we quickly dashed up the path toward the crossroads.

          “Come on. Follow me.” She broke her silence, the rain cascading down her long golden hair.

          I wanted to grab her hand again, but she seemed more interested in leading me to wherever, so I simply ran along with her, passing the cabins that lined the south shore. With the exception of Alisa and Ulyana’s cabin, there were no lights on to guide us down the path, but Slavya seemed to know the way regardless.

          A few doors down, we stepped onto the creaking wooden porch of a cabin that looked like it’d seen much better days. Much of the old white paint had peeled off, and it looked as though nobody had lived in it for quite a while; the undergrowth was noticeably thicker than anywhere else in the camp, and the windows were obscured with dust.

          With the turn of a key from Slavya’s sizeable keyring – how she kept the thing hidden on her person was beyond me – she swung the door open, and I quickly followed her inside.

          The rain fell hollowly onto the roof above us, and as I closed the door, Slavya flipped a switch, causing a single light bulb to glow from the ceiling.

          Two beds – one of them was made. While it looked like the place had been recently swept through, there was still work to be done. It had a very similar layout to the other cabins: two windows, one on each end; two tables, one between the beds, the other near the center of the room. The place was very basic and covered in dust, but it was a quantum leap forward from that blasted tent.

          “I’m sorry. I tried to clean as much as I could today.” She turned toward me, her uniform clinging to her body. “It was a busy afternoon.”

          “You… really didn’t have to do this for me, Slavya. You’re far too kind.” My eyes lingered on her bra; I could see it quite plainly through the damp fabric of her shirt. It took some effort, but I eventually managed to meet her eyes.

          “It was the least I could do for you,” she replied, holding the lantern in both hands as though knowing exactly what I’d been staring at; her arms crossed over her chest, and a slight hint of bashfulness reddened her cheeks.

          I stepped toward her, purposefully dropping the wet satchel noisily on the floor. I was finding it impossible to control myself. My hand caressed her cheek, brushing her hair over her ear -- it was an action that made her draw in an expectant breath, eyes closing. We were safe now in this cabin, and our clothes could really stand the chance to dry on their own...

          A thumping up the steps and a pounding on the door shattered that plan, however. Loud and imposing, and so late… who the hell was this? And how did they know that we’d be here?

          I only had time to pull back my hand. Olga Dmitrievna burst in, not bothering to wait for a response. Dressed in a raincoat, she stepped inside, glaring at the two of us standing in rather close proximity to each other, utterly dripping from head to toe. It didn’t take a genius to know that we weren’t about to play checkers; at least, not in the conventional way.

          “Can I help…” I began.

          “There you are!” Expectedly, she wasn’t too happy. “Do you have any idea how long I have been looking for you? You have some explaining to do, young man!”

          “Explaining? Of what?”

          “Yes, of what?” Slavya interjected. “He has been with me the entire time. We’ve been out and only just returned!”

          “I believe you know all too well.” Olga glared at me. “A matter regarding our brig. Do tell, Brion.”

 _Damn it… Lena must have said something._ My first thought was to play dumb, but it wouldn’t do any good. I had to face the music, or at least come up with another well-crafted lie, one last time. I had half a mind to fold up, but I had to do something to not look like a complete tool in front of Slavya, who was now looking toward me with piqued curiosity. “I can explain.”

          “Please do. Starting with how and why you released Dvachevskaya yourself, rather than coming to me. Let’s go with that.”

          “Well… she was only supposed to be in there until after dinner that night, right?”

          “Irrelevant.”

          Actually, it was _very_ damn relevant! My mind scrambled for more ammunition. “Well, when she didn’t return to her cabin, Ulyana asked me to go and find out about it.”

          “And so you went to Lena, rather than to me. Again: Explain why.” Her stare intensified.

          “Because… because…” I said the first thing that came to mind. “I forgave Alisa, and I knew Lena would help!”

          Olga raised an eyebrow. “And still, you didn’t consider asking me for help, instead?”

          “No! Not at all.” _Come on, damn it, think!_ “I just… didn’t want to risk another conflict between you and Alisa. I thought I could handle her on my own, settle our differences… and we did. I got the keys from Lena and let her out. Everything’s fine now. I figured it would be one less thing for you to deal with, and everyone would be happy.”

          “Why didn’t you ask me?” Slavya joined in, looking perplexed. “If you didn’t want to trouble camp leader, I would’ve helped as well.”

          “I didn’t… want to get you involved, either. Even though it’s your job… I did act a bit inappropriately with Alisa the first day, so it was up to me. I wanted to handle it all myself.” God, this was getting pathetic. I was scraping the bottom of the barrel!

          “Inappropriately? So what she said in the canteen was true?” Olga asked, surprise in her eyes.

          “N-no! Not the whole thing about… touching her. I mean, I touched her, but I didn’t do…” I trailed off.

          I briefly caught a smile from Slavya, but it was far from comforting. My story was so full of holes and hot air, I could hardly keep a straight face.

          The camp leader chewed this over silently, not blinking at all as she did so. Seconds passed. I kept my face as stony as possible, pressing my teeth together.

          “And then you lost the key, correct?”

 _Exhale._ I did. “Yeah… that was a really dumb thing on my part. I got very clumsy, and now it’s lost.”

          Olga shook her head, looking positively drained from this ordeal. “This disappoints me greatly, Brion. At times I believe that you are a great example to other pioneers; other times, you appear little more than a resourceful oaf.”

          “Yeah, well… no argument here.”

          She looked at the two of us, now. “On to a more pressing issue: you two, alone in this cabin together, this late at night. Slavya, I’m giving _you_ the opportunity to explain.”

          “Explain?” Slavya asked, looking confused. “What is to explain? We were out together, as I said. I was just showing him the cabin, since he’s moving in, remember? He has no other place to go in this weather.”

          “That is not quite what I mean,” the camp leader asserted, sizing the both of us up. “We have had a discussion about something very similar to this, haven’t we?”

          Slavya balked, moving closer to me, as if to stand by my side. Her face stiffened. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

          “You know exactly what I mean.” Olga’s demeanor darkened. “Something that happened last year. In the infirmary.”

          “That… this is nothing like that at all.” Her voice trembling slightly in frustration, Slavya frowned. “Nothing had happened then. And nothing has happened now. We’re just standing here.”

 _Nothing?_ I wanted to protest, but I’d have to fully accept my status as a resourceful oaf if I dared to open my mouth. But what exactly were they going on about?

          “Is that so? The way that you two act toward each other is completely platonic, then? Is that what you are going to say?”

          “Yes!” Slavya’s response was loud; louder than it probably should have been. “Just like that. We’re friends, that’s all.”

 _Ouch._ Ouch, ouch, ouch… Slavya, how could you? After all we _did_ do on the island not even an hour ago…

          Olga looked at me, undoubtedly seeing how I’d been wounded. “For you, Brion: you are to stay confined to this cabin through tomorrow. If you are seen anywhere other than the washing stands, you’ll spend time in the brig. Understand?”

          “What for?” I asked.

          “For losing the key, and causing a large amount of trouble for those involved, of course. It is not the only key that we have, so don’t treat this as an empty threat. You are a guest here, but also subject to our rules. Let’s leave it at that.” She turned her attention back to Slavya. “As for you: we shall discuss matters further at my cabin. Right now.”

          I felt helpless. I glanced at Slavya, could see the sadness in her eyes. What could I do? Grab hold of her hand, be all, _“No, lady! You’re not telling us what to do!”_? Deck the camp leader in the face and run off to places unknown?

          Damn it all. I had to take the punishment for my own stupid decisions. Slavya’s problem… was simply hers. No matter how I cut it, that was the bottom line.

          Olga waited while Slavya handed me the key to the cabin, looking completely defeated. I wanted to say something, to try and comfort her, but we’d obviously kicked enough bees’ nests to keep ourselves busy for quite some time.

          With that, they both left, leaving me alone in the cabin with the rain continuing to pour down, flooding my mind with white noise.

          The bed called to me, and I sat down, trying to clear everything out.

          “This damn day…” I muttered aloud. Too many ups and downs for one span of twenty-four hours. I couldn’t even decide which event required reflection. I wanted sleep to overtake me, sweep everything clean.

          I kicked my shoes off, got out of my drenched uniform and turned out the lights.

          “Tomorrow is another day…” I said to myself, fading quickly into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was one of the most difficult pieces I have ever had to write, for a number of reasons. The content within, with the omission of one or two details, was an exercise in being honest not only to readers but to myself. Such a thing would not have been a reality when first conceptualized many months ago; in fact, this entire work may have come to an unforunate end, had I not made a more prudent decision regarding someone in my life in more recent times.
> 
> This being said, this was a chapter that, in parallel to life events, I endured with great pains, but I am also quite proud of the way that it turned out. I hope it proved itself to be an enjoyable read, and there are further adventures soon to come.


	20. The Semyon Mystery

_You,_  
_Yes you.._  
_I’m sorry._  
_I was lost and had some weird idea that ignoring you would be better._  
_Maybe it was maybe it was not._  
_And I just want to tell you that you have always been amazing and wonderful._

 _P.s._  
_I hurt you and again I am very sorry._

\------------------------------------

          Birds chirping outside. Finches. _Ziabliki._

          I was pulled from sleep, from words traveling from an indeterminate place and time. Like those end titles from _Threads_ , glowing in complete darkness, I saw nothing else but somber lines of supplication suspended before me, one coming after the other.

          “Sorry? Is that all you have for me?” I spoke aloud to the emptiness of the cabin, still half-asleep, slurring my words.

          Blinking my eyes, the dream vanished. Those words and their meanings, and any feeling behind them drifted away like the whisper of a breeze. A nightmare quickly forgotten, brushed aside by the light of another day.

          I looked up at the wooden ceiling of the cabin – my cabin – realizing where I still was.

          I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and yawned.

          Looking at the satchel still sitting in the middle of the floor brought the events of the previous night back to mind: My words to Slavya out on the lake, the sweet kisses… and Olga sentencing me to solitary confinement.

          Bitterly, I stood and picked up my uniform, which was hanging over a chair and still on the damp side. I reluctantly put it on, shuddering a bit at their mustiness and paced the dusty cabin, assembling my thoughts.

 _Confined to quarters._ I remembered that detail as being the most important one at the moment. Still, there was no way I could possibly sit inside all day; not without some sort of distraction.  I had to at least brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, at least take a piss. Sure, I was subject to the rules of this place, but there was still room for basic human dignity.

          I scattered various items from my satchel onto the table, found my hygiene kit and set out to care for myself. The location of my new home put the washing stands at a stone’s throw away now, so it wasn’t a long trip at all.

* * *

 

          With the water running ice cold, as usual, I brushed my teeth with what little powder I had left, pleased to be alone for the time being. As I woke up a bit more, I ran over the previous night’s events in more detail.

          Olga had mentioned something about catching Slavya in the infirmary… it had to do with this Semyon dude, for sure. I wondered just what had happened, and what kind of person he was. Slavya seemed so broken up about him when she’d talked about him at the island.

          Even more so did she look wrecked before leaving last night. Whatever the contents of her later discussion with the camp leader were, I felt sorry for her.

          I honestly didn’t know what to make of Olga – whether I hated her or not. She had an agenda, that was for sure. What that could be, I still had to figure out. She was going to be a stumbling block for us, otherwise.

 _Us._ I had to remind myself that there wasn’t an _Us_. At least, not officially. Slavya and I had kissed good and long on the island, and we were certainly about to launch into much more until we were interrupted… but what were we? I hated to ask myself that question, as it was one I’d asked countless times before, with…

          “No. Don’t say the name,” I muttered to myself as I splashed cold water over my face, feeling my facial muscles clench. “Don’t start the day with that.”

          After going through the usual awkward method of washing up – getting drenched by the rain is not a good substitute for an actual bath – I pulled out my small hand mirror, deciding to shave.

          As I studied my tired-looking face in the mirror, I caught sight of Lena. Slowly approaching from behind me, she came to a stop as I caught her reflection. Before I could even address her, she sheepishly turned her face downward, peering shyly in my direction.

          “ _Dobroye utro,”_   I greeted her calmly.

          “ _D… dobroye utro…”_ she replied, her tone lacking of feeling.  “Are… are you mad at me?”

          I set the mirror down so I could free my hands, then picked up my razor, flicking the blade a couple of times to test its sharpness. “Why would I be?” Admittedly, I sounded moodier than I’d intended.

          “I told camp leader about the key. I had to. She asked.”

          I looked over my shoulder at her, then shook my head. “I’m not mad, Lena. It wasn’t your fault. Never was. It had to happen sooner or later.”

          At our eyes meeting, she turned away even more. “I should have said no in the first place. It _was_ my fault, at least a little.”

          I turned back to my mirror, leaning over and soaping myself up to have a go at tailoring my beard back down to a chinstrap, as I normally liked. “Don’t be like that. What’s done is done.”

          She came closer, then eventually came up next to me, carefully sitting on the edge of the large wash basin, watching my routine. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you’re a little mad at me. I… would understand.”

          Looking at her out of the corner of my eye, admiring her curves from this particular angle and height, I smiled. “I know my face doesn’t say it, but I’m not an angry guy by default. It’s okay, Lena.”

          In her hands, she was holding a healthy, ripe peach. “I brought this for you. You missed breakfast and lineup, so I thought I’d come by your cabin.”

          Interesting. I didn’t think that my cabin’s location would be very well known so soon. “Thank you. I could really use it.”

          She smiled, setting it down next to my things.

          As I shaved, she said nothing, just continued to stare blankly off into space. Every once in a while, I’d catch her eyes on my hand with the blade; admittedly, I was trying to be extra careful, as such a thing didn’t lend itself to a fine trim as modern shavers did.

          I finally decided to break the awkward silence. Such a nice girl, and I was wasting an opportunity to at least have something good in my day before going back to confinement. “Tell me a little about yourself, Lena. We really don’t know much about each other, do we?”

          She seemed surprised that I’d asked such a thing. “Oh, me? There’s… not a lot to tell. I don’t lead a very interesting life.”

          “I doubt that. How about where you’re from? Let’s go with that.”

          “From? A town… not very far from here. There isn’t anything special about it.”

          Stalled again. For what it was worth, Lena wasn’t a great conversationalist. “Uh-huh. Well… what kind of things are you into? Besides reading, of course.”

          “I… do things.”

          _“Things?”_

          “Sewing… cooking… cleaning. Lots of cleaning.”

          I shook the blade under the running tap. “Sounds like you’d make a good housewife,” I joked.

          Lena seemed taken aback by this statement; she shifted a few inches away from me, her skin turning pink. “You don’t really mean that… do you?”

          “Sorry. That was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

          Her lips curved into a very faint smile. “It was, but I don’t mind.”

          “Anyway, yeah, I do mean that. Where I come from, that kind of thing is becoming a little rare. Girls seem to be distracted by school, work, television… making themselves pretty. Stuff like that.”

          Lena stared at me, pondering my statements with a troubled expression. “Are you saying that you want those things in a wife? Someone who cooks and cleans?”

          I shrugged. “Well, no. I mean, not as a requirement.” I searched for a way to clarify. “If she could do those things, it’d make me happy, sure. But… at the end of the day, I only want someone strong, passionate… silly, at times. Someone who would help me not be so lonely. And, of course, it would help if she were cute, too.” I laughed at my absurd list of demands. “You know what I mean?”

          “I think so.” Her absent gaze told me that she was still pretty lost.

          “What I’m saying is… I’d be more satisfied with who she is deep down, and not so much with if she can cook a meal for me.”

          “I understand,” she said, nodding. “It does sound nice. So American girls really are for you, is what you're saying."

          “I'm always on the lookout for someone completely unexpected. What about you? What would you want in a husband?”

          “Me? A husband? Well…” She nervously fiddled with her fingers, looking away. “I don’t want to say. I’m sorry.”

          “Come on. I shared with you.”

          She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk to you about that.”

          I felt a little frustrated by her answer, but Lena did have a right not to tell me something so personal. I supposed that was simply a key difference between the two of us; while she was guarded, I really wasn’t the type to keep such matters bottled in for long – the right person would hear all. Slavya certainly seemed like that person.

          “Say… do you remember someone from last year?” My mind drifted back to the previous night’s campfire on the island. “Someone named Semyon?”

          “Semyon?” She looked confused with a shade of fearful. Silent for a few seconds, staring blankly, she shook her head. “I… no. I don’t remember him. Why do you ask?”

          “Just wondering. Asking for a friend.” I put the razor down, checking both sides of my face. Beside a tiny nick or two, I figured that I was good for the time being. “I heard that he caused a bit of trouble when he was here.”

          Lena’s gaze was distant once more, as though she were really thinking, but coming up with nothing. “Sorry. I don’t remember meeting anyone like that.” She replied somberly. Her attention was drawn to the path, where the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard. “I’ll… talk to you later. Have a good day.”

          With that, she made an abrupt exit, gliding away without making so much as a sound as she walked.

          Something about the whole Semyon situation didn’t sit right with me, and seeing Lena react the way that she did didn’t help. How could someone like her, so unimposing and observant not recall a thing about him?

          As I gathered my things, along with the peach that Lena had left, my eyes were drawn to the source of the approaching footsteps: Olga Dmitrievna was obviously on the lookout for someone, and that someone was me. Her pace quickened at the sight of me, stopping soon after as she surveyed just what I was up to.

          “Brion… I see that you’ve finally awoken.” Her eyes locked onto my collar, where my neckerchief should have been – likely rolled into a ball somewhere after being used as a snot rag – yet she didn’t address it. “Where are you headed to?”

          “Back to my cabin,” I replied. I wanted to add a smarmy “where else?”, but that obviously wouldn’t have gone over well. As much as I resented our venerable commander at the time, I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. I was trying to see being locked away from everyone else as a good thing.

          “Before you do, come to the square. We are giving haircuts today, and I believe you could use one.”

          “Thanks, but I don’t need…”

          The look that she gave let me know that it wasn’t a request. And indeed, despite my happiness of having more of it than I was used to, my hair was becoming a tousled mess, especially after a week of being conditioned by kissel and rain water. I felt sorry for my comb, which I’d lazily let chew through it from time to time. How it hadn’t been made into a spectacle yet was beyond me.

          “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” I agreed with resignation.

          “No need to be sore. You’ll be spending the rest of the day in your cabin, so enjoy the opportunity,” she stated, falling in beside me.

* * *

 

          We walked together toward the square, taking an alternate route that was more off the beaten path, leading toward the clubhouses. Questions about the key fiasco, as well as the problem with Slavya pounded in my brain; the proverbial elephant in the room, but just as well, I didn’t want to discuss any of it.

          Olga, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have as many cares on her mind. Today was business as usual to her, as she seemed to stroll with leisure, surveying nature under the brim of her white Bermuda. “Quite the lovely morning,” she stated.

          “Sure.” I mumbled lowly.

          “With all of this rain, we’re sure to have a good crop of scallions and turnips by end of term.”

          “Scallions and turnips. Fascinating.”

          Noting my sarcasm, Olga sighed. “I can understand your resentment toward me, Brion. Do realize that I take no pleasure in punishing anyone who comes to our camp. That is not what being a camp leader is about; however, I must do what I can to maintain order here.”

          “Order?”

          “Yes. Order. In your case, you put Lena in a bad position, when the correct thing to do was to consult with me. If you’d really forgiven Dvachevskaya for what she’d done to you, we could have resolved the issue ourselves. Together. That is how things should always be done. I am surprised that, as an ambassador of your nation, you chose to act alone in that matter.”

          “I’m not disagreeing with the punishment. I just didn’t think it was a big enough issue to keep bothering you about.”

          “It is my job to be bothered by such things.” She headed me off, stopping me in my tracks, looking at me with a concerned expression. It was unsettling, to say the least. “When have I given you the impression that I don’t wish to solve a problem, large or small? Do you really think that I don’t want the best for you and others?”

          “N… no, Olga Dmitrievna…” I looked away sheepishly.

          “Look me in the eyes, Brion. Be honest. How have I failed you as camp leader? I would like to know.”

          It was difficult, but I did as she asked, seeing that she looked troubled. However, after being jaded from so many years of dealing with crap from supervisory types, I’d grown to see such people as robotic – always looking for an angle to get one up over everyone else. I couldn’t say for certain if she was being genuine. “You haven’t failed me.”

          Her look softened a bit more as she removed her hat, taking a moment to look around, as though concerned that we were being watched. She spoke with a lower, more intimate voice that lacked much of the stilted, more official tone that I’d grown used to. “Allow me to be candid with you.”

          “Alright…”

          “This camp and everyone in it: they are not just a profession that I have been assigned to. I grew up here. I am quite fond of this place and the impact that it can have on young people. Some… have witnessed that, from when _I_ was a pioneer.

          “Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it easy. It makes it much harder. I am not a pioneer anymore, nor am I in Komsomol anymore. Although I would like to remain as everybody’s friend, that comes later, if at all. My first priority is to be an authority here. Do you understand where I come from?”

          I shrugged, feeling defeated. “Yeah… I suppose you’re right. I’ve been in that situation too.”

          “Then do you understand that I am not trying to punish you or inhibit your time here for any other reason than that? I am looking out for what everyone shall become when they leave this camp.”

          “Yes, ma’am.”

          She took a step closer; a little closer than someone of authority should stand. This felt personal, especially with her lowered tone of voice. “Don’t answer with ‘ma’am’. Tell me as yourself. Do you understand what I am trying to accomplish?”

          I paused, but finally nodded. “I understand, Olga.”

          “Good.” She smiled, carefully fixing the brim on her Bermuda before placing it back on her head. “If we both keep that in mind, it will make things easier. We can help each other. That being said, tomorrow, let’s treat things as though they had never happened. I would prefer it that way.” She took a step back, shifting gears. “And don’t forget that from here on, you observe my patronymic. Let’s not get so informal in front of others.”

          “In private, though?”

          She turned away, but looked at me over her shoulder. “Do not push your luck, _Tovarisch._ Now, let’s get to the square.”

          We walked the rest of the way in silence. After all of that, I figured that my questions about Slavya would just have to wait.         

* * *

  
          In front of the empty pedestal of the great Genda, the boys of the camp were collected like an awkward pack of red-neckerchiefed cattle. The girls, on the other hand, seemed to be mere observers, staying in the shade and on nearby benches; none of them looked like anything had been done to their locks. It was understandable, since a girl’s hair is her crowning glory – something like that.

          With hair from previous clients littering the ground, Ivan’s bushy, silvery mop was being dramatically reduced by Viola, who was making artful moves with a gleaming, gnarly-looking pair of shears. It turned out that the kid’s hair was rather thick, although looking merely ear-length. What was ending up on the ground took on a massive appearance; almost like a dog that, when brushed, would result in a pile that could practically assemble a whole other dog.

          He appeared to be taking it with notable poise – had to give him that. As he sat upon a stool, he hummed the same song he’d sung the day before, blissfully disconnected.

          Running a brush over him, Viola attended to the task like a professional barber. Apparently she had multiple talents outside of poking people with needles and teasing young boys in some fashion or another.

          “ _Fine,”_ she announced, pulling the apron over his head. While she set the shears down on a small folding table, Ivan stood, ruffling his shortened hair to a degree of messiness to which he approved of, then quickly got out of dodge, the other boys trying to poke and slap him as he passed them.

          Of course, I knew I was in trouble as soon as Viola turned back around, immediately dialing her gaze in on me. It didn’t help that Olga practically pushed me forward, breaking the order of the loose line that had formed.

          None of the others seemed bothered that I’d be slowing things up; Electronik, who didn’t look at all interested in losing any of his wavy blonde locks, was a mere meter away. He gave a thumbs-up, although he couldn’t completely hide his nervousness.

          “Have a seat, _Bello,_ ” Viola said, smiling slyly. Her affectionate nickname for me seemed to illicit varied responses from both the girls and the boys, but I paid no real mind, sitting as I was instructed.

          After placing the apron over my uniform, she began to run her fingers through my hair in a rather intrusive fashion. I couldn’t complain; as usual, the swooping neckline of her outfit was keeping my eyes occupied. “So, what will it be for you?” she asked.

          “Do I have choices?”

          “You always have choices, Pioneer.” She produced an aged paper chart with black-and-white images of what were apparently popular hairstyles for Soviet boys; popular when Khrushchev was in power, it seemed.

          The more I looked, the more I realized that they were all essentially the same, but the photos were taken of different angles of the same head. _Oh, such choices._ On top of that, they looked like precursors to Shurik’s now-distinct cut; long on top, faded along the sides.

          “May I suggest the Stalin look?” Olga Dmitrievna grinned from over Viola’s shoulder.

          I envisioned myself with the former Soviet leader’s famous pompadour, with that fabulous lift. There was no way in hell. “I’ll pass.” I replied.

          “How about the Lenin?” Ulyana offered from out of range, winking. "A bright, shining forehead for a bright, shining future!"

          “Over my dead body!”

          “I’d say Lenin as well!” Electronik joined in now.

          Viola looked to him. “Should I consider it for you?”

          He closed his mouth fairly quickly.

          Alisa approached, armed with a magazine of some sort. I wasn’t sure as to what kind it was, but she had it open to a specific page, displaying it to the camp leader and Viola with authority. They both looked it over for a few seconds, then looked at me, then back at the picture.

          “It is a bit much… where are these popular? The West?” Olga asked with a giggle.

          “Western Europe! All the rage!” Alisa winked.

          Viola was a bit more thoughtful, studying the pictures being presented with the eye of an artist. “It looks to be a military cut. Very, very short, long on top.”

          “No! Lenin! Lenin! Lenin!” Ulyana began to chant, being joined by others in a quick fashion. Soon, all the younger pioneers were raising their voices, fists in the air. The older ones, Slavya included, weren’t quite as enthusiastic; I spotted her off to the side, holding a broom and looking rather alarmed by all the commotion.

          “ _Silencio!”_ Viola snapped, turning around.

          Olga joined as well, taking her authoritative stance. “Quiet right now, or _everyone_ gets the Lenin! Understand?!”

          Did she mean the girls, too? Hell, it would be worth getting it if she were to make good on her threat. Of course, I doubted that she would. Not to mention that some of the girls – Slavya especially – would look tragic with bald heads.

          I abruptly stood up, trying vainly to toss the apron off my shoulders. “I’m supposed to be locked down. That’s it, I’m locking _myself_ in the cabin. See you tomorrow!”

          “Down.” Despite having traveled a step or two, Viola sent me right back to the stool with a single hand on the shoulder. I wasn’t going anywhere. “The military cut it is. I think it will suit you just fine.”

          The wide eyes of the boys as the sound of an electric shaver buzzed in my ear solidified my fate. Even the girls seemed surprised, except for Ulyana; she’d apparently missed the memo and was still chanting “Lenin! Lenin! Lenin!” over the noise, even as Olga made to loom over her, hands on her hips.

          “Just… leave the eyebrows, okay?” My final words escaped just as the clippers made contact.

          Having worn my hair in a short manner during my metal-head days back in college, I couldn’t deny that getting such a cut never took very long. When all is said and done, there’s not much left to be styled.

          Of course, that was back then, and I wasn’t rocking a faux-hawk. It wasn’t until I was presented with a mirror that I saw just what Alisa had suggested: all of my hair was gone, except for the top, right where my hair parted on each side. The hair on top of my head was still relatively long, but Viola had taken the sides down as far as she could, even going as far as using a straight razor. My skin now gleamed; a _reverse_ Lenin would be the accurate term.

          Well, in all honesty, it didn’t look half bad. It was an extreme change compared to what had been there, but I could get used to it.

          The change didn’t resound very well with the boys – especially Electronik, who had somehow gotten pushed to the very front of the line. As he surveyed the carnage that had taken place, he was noticeably sweating, and not from the heat.

          “Go for the rest! Give him the full _petushok!”_ As I stood up, freed from the barber’s apron, Alisa attempted to incite Viola; I guess that, to her, justice hadn’t been done to my head just yet. She added a proud strut as well, folding her arms into wings and scratching the ground with her feet. It was an energetic act that elicited an uproar of laughter from everyone around.

          As to be expected, Olga wasn’t quite amused. “What exactly do you mean by calling him ‘ _Petushok’,_ Dvachevskaya?” she asked.

          The rebel continued to strut, bobbing her head. “You know! He’s a little rooster! Chasing after every hen!”

          Viola set the clippers down, a faint blush at the tops of her cheekbones. “It would appear to be an accurate description.”

          “Not something that we wish to encourage!” Olga asserted, throwing a glare my way, making me shrug.

          “Well, he’s certainly not a _petukh!”_ Alisa replied.

          “You will certainly not call him _Petukh_!” The camp leader authoritatively declared.

          “Am I missing something?” I asked, now genuinely confused.

          Ulyana quickly joined her cohort, excited to be learning something new. It was too bad that tact wasn’t the subject. “Why can’t she call him _petukh?_ It works! He looks just like a rooster now!”

          “Ulyana!” Slavya stepped boldly forward with her broom, her demeanor a contrast to the night before. Apparently _she_ knew what was being discussed, and looked appropriately perturbed. “Enough! Don’t get involved!”

          The pipsqueak couldn’t help herself, sourly displaying her impudence. “What? _Petukh, petukh, petukh!”_ She chanted defiantly.

          Once again, Ulyana’s chanting pushed the younger pioneers to do the same, followed by the older ones. “ _Petukh! Petukh! Petukh!”_

          Pandemonium ensued not long after that, as Olga’s efforts to quell the rebellion fell apart; the boys who’d been waiting in line proceeded to be boys, pushing and shoving each other, calling each other “ _petukh”_. The chaos provided the perfect cover for Electronik to scramble toward the assumable safety of the clubhouses.

          While all of this was taking place, I could see Slavya authoritatively breaking the fighting spirits of pioneers one at a time. It was business as usual with her as she spoke sternly to the rowdier ones, quieting them down. Viola simply stood and glared, not pleased by having her morning task interrupted.

          With pioneers scattering this way and that, I felt that it was high time to make an exit. I joined a small cluster of boys who’d decided to evacuate, and was almost out of the square when I heard Olga Dmitrievna again; apparently this turn of events had sparked another argument between her and the two rebels. “That’s it! Dvachevskaya, you’re next!”

          “Hey wait, no! _Petukh,_ help me out!” Alisa called after me.

 _“Nothing doing, Dva-Cheh,”_ I thought to myself, making tracks. I was almost out, and there was no way in hell I was going back to wrestle her out of there, especially after her cheeky chicken dance.

          I heard her call out to me once more, but by then I was out of sight and jogging back in the direction of the cabin, with the plans to bunker myself thoroughly. Trouble could come and look for me all it wanted, but least in there I could be ready for it, rather than tripping over it accidentally as I tended to do.

* * *

 

          Using the same path as when I’d arrived with Olga, I was able to get to the clubhouses without coming into contact with anyone – that is, until I spotted Electronik, who was hiding rather poorly in the bushes. His blonde hair wasn’t doing him many favors in the foliage. I carefully approached, coming up behind him.

          _“Ahem.”_

          He turned to look at me, leaves rustling noisily around his shoulders. “Oh, hey! I thought I was a goner, for sure! When Nurse Viola gets to using the clippers, it’s a bad sign for everyone!”

          “That a fact?” I asked, running my hand over the stubble that had once made up my proud mane. I had to admit that I liked feeling at least ten degrees cooler. It made me wonder just what was in store for Alisa.

          “Say… you wouldn’t know where Svetlana would be, would you?” he asked, standing up. “None of us have seen her all morning.”

          “Can’t say that I have. Maybe she’s still hiding from Alisa. Speaking of which, you’re a lot more popular than you let on.”

          He looked a little embarrassed, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah… I don’t really understand it myself. I mean, there are more important things at hand, right?”

          “Zhenya?” I asked.

          “No!” he declared defiantly, pointing toward me with his hand. “The future of robotics!”

          I sighed. _This guy is impossible._ “Or that, yeah.”

          “At any rate, I’m sure she will turn up. The damage to the robot’s logic center is rather extensive, but be assured, we’ll be back at it full force before long!”

          “Right.” I began to walk away. “Keep me posted on that.”

          He balked. “W… wait! Hold on. I do have a question for you. That is, if you don’t mind…”

          I stopped momentarily. I didn’t want to get roped back into someone else’s drama; not when I had my own to deal with, but I couldn’t abandon him, either. “Go ahead.”

          “I’m not entirely clueless. I know that Svetlana has an interest in me, and so does Ulyana. It doesn’t make things easy, you know? Especially with how things have gone with the robot… and of course, I can’t give up on Zhenya; you are right about that. What should I do?”

          “Well… why do you think I’d have the answer?” I asked. “I’m not exactly an expert on keeping out of trouble around here. Have you asked Shurik?”

          Electronik shook his head. “I admire Shurik’s wisdom. Truly, truly, he is prodigious and one of the most brilliant minds of our generation… but he is of little help when it comes to relationships between people. He says to concentrate on the work alone.”

          I shifted my bundle. “He’s not wrong, but… obviously it’s hard when Svetlana is right there.”

          “Yes! If anything, she’s getting in the way!”

          I shook my head. “I would advise you not to use that language, especially anywhere around her.”

          He nodded. “You’re right. We wouldn’t be anywhere close without her.”

          “I think the bigger question is: How do you feel about her?”

          He was silent for a few moments. “She isn’t… without certain attractive graces. Her attitude, at times, leaves much to be desired…”

          This coming from a guy who wanted a shot at the librarian. “So in other words, you don’t feel the same toward her as she does to you, right?’

          “I… I didn’t say that!”

          “I’m pretty sure you’d know. I don’t have to ask you about Zhenya, because it’s written all over you. But… you need to be firm on your position with Svetlana. She needs to know if you’re not going to give her what she wants.”

          “But… won’t that make her angry? Maybe even quit the club?”

          “Maybe. But it’ll be better than stringing her along. Besides, in my country, we have a saying: ‘Don’t shit where you eat’.”

          My graphic proverb made Electronik’s face wrinkle. “Meaning?”

          “You shouldn’t get involved with someone you work with. That’s one of the worst mistakes you could make. I’ve been there. It’s not pretty.”

          He sighed, looking off into the distance. “It’s certainly a lot to think about. What a horribly inefficient machine the human brain can be!” His cheerful tone sounded slightly like that of somebody coming unhinged.

          I upturned my hands. “That’s all I have for you. I wouldn’t worry about Ulyana, on the other hand. That’s just… a girl’s innocent crush.”

          He chuckled, then began to laugh almost too loudly. “Funny, I never thought I’d see the day where Ulyana was the least of my problems!”

          I smiled. “Anything’s possible. Anyway, I’m supposed to be on lockdown, so I hope this helped a bit.”

          “It did.” He looked authentically relieved. “Thanks a lot for the advice.”

          “No problem.” I nodded, then had another thought. “Actually, before I go, one thing: Do you know a guy named Semyon?”

          “Semyon?” he furrowed his brow. “The name does sound familiar, but I can’t put a face to it. Who was he? A pioneer, right?”

          “Yeah, I guess. He was a visitor from last year. I heard he raised a bit of a commotion.”

          “Come to think of it, I do remember slightly. Tall, with dark hair, square in the face. Kind of a quiet guy, skittish; Somewhat like you, but… not!" He said with a slight laugh. “Why?”

          “Asking for a friend. You remember anything else?”

          He shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind. He more or less came and went, like a breeze.”

          I turned to leave. “Thanks, Electronik. Good luck.”

          “Same to you!” he called as I headed down the path.

* * *

 

          I had yet to fully understand just why it was so important to me to know about Semyon. At first, I’d thought it were just so I could see where Slavya had been coming from – to see what kind of person would leave her so suddenly.

          The varied answers, however, led me to believe that there was something much deeper behind his presence in the camp. Perhaps he’d even been like me: a traveler of some kind. Lost from some other place in time.

          Of course, there was always the probability that he was just some loser who only a select few knew anything about. In fact, as I walked back to my cabin, that probability seemed all the more likely, and I shook my head of the other thought, filing it under “CS” or “Chicken Shit”.

          Whoever he was, he had little to nothing to do with me. And even if he did, there was nothing he could do to change the fact that I was stuck here. Trapped… although, in honesty, there’d been moments where I’d begun to enjoy my new surroundings, my new set of responsibilities. New friends, potentially a new future. Saying I was trapped was becoming more and more of a stretch.

          Of course, once summer ended, I still had to figure out what I’d be doing with myself. There was no way any of this could last forever.

          As I locked the door behind me, I contemplated that. Just what would I really do when it was time to leave the camp for good?


	21. The Search Party

          I made the most of the passing hours by finishing Slavya’s work. Every surface that I could reach was cleaned of dust and accumulated grime. I swept the floor until it could practically be eaten off of. It was a good way to collect my thoughts and get the day to pass by quicker.

          However, there was only so much work that could be done. After making a second and third pass through the cabin with the broom, I began to understand just how much of a punishment being confined to one’s cabin could be, especially with the rising heat. Even with both windows popped open, it was sweltering.

          I eventually found myself sitting idly at a table, birds chirping outside and everyone else seemingly going about their day. Sheer boredom had taken hold of me, and as the horns sounded for lunch, extreme hunger joined it as well. A single peach hadn’t exactly hit the spot. Of course, being locked down, my options were: Sit and Starve, in that order.

          Munching on the last couple pieces of candy I had left, I took the time to go once again through the runic notes that I’d kept in my satchel, setting them in a neat pile on the corner of the table. As usual, the characters seemed to have more of a calming effect than anything else when viewed, scrawled in a fairly delicate and mystical way, my own markings blending into them.

          “All those horror movies, still can’t read pagan symbols,” I mumbled aloud, setting another page down. I doubted that the library here would have any information about them. State atheism had to apply to all sorts of religious thinking, not just the popular, churchy stuff.

          Plus, the prospect of asking Zhenya about such things – if we could ever get back on proper speaking terms –was not attractive in the slightest. In our talks, I’d found her to be the most passionate believer in the State being on the level of a deity. She’d look at me as even more of a freak.

          The longer I looked, the more I was convinced that there was no way I’d written those things myself. I was not a sleepwalker, nor a sleepwriter.

          “Of course. To help me ‘be prepared’,” I conjectured. “My magical dream girl did it. Or the fairy godmother.”

          The whole idea sounded ludicrous, but I couldn’t exactly rule anything out. Just my being here at all was proof that the usual rules of logic had been more or less altered. The fact that I’d even stopped questioning my abilities to speak fluent Russian in less than a week reinforced that. In a way, I felt slightly manipulated – programmed, for lack of a better word.

          So, in that case, what could I do? Would I simply have to wait until I had another strange night visitation, or could I summon it? Was I being watched right now?

          As the thought crossed my mind, I had the unmistakable sense of eyes on me. A wooden creak somewhere in the cabin didn’t help settle my nerves, either. I slowly turned, looking toward the back window; I expected to see Ulyana back there messing around, but there were only trees in the distance. I was very much alone and doing a great job at freaking myself out.

          With a sigh, I rummaged through the satchel once more, staring absently at my tin of tooth powder, remembering how its contents had seemingly been pilfered that night. For what purpose, I still didn’t know. Was dental hygiene a priority for this mystery girl?

          Acting on a hunch, I went to the back window and carefully placed the tin upon the sill, hoping that its dwindling contents would be enough. “An offering.” I uttered to the breeze.

          As I said this, a pounding on the door made my already prickly hair stand on end. The timing was almost uncanny.

          “Who is it?” I asked.

          “Slavya.” Came the reply.

          My fears instantly melted away, and as I opened the door to her I felt righteously at ease. As usual, prim and proper, strong and confident in expression, she greeted me with a soft smile.

          “You’re back,” I spoke.

          “Of course. I can’t stay, though.” Bashfully, she handed me a white paper bag that she was carrying. “I brought you lunch. I didn’t want you to go hungry in here.”

          I took it, thankful more for her presence than anything else. “ _Spasibo._ How… are you? Are things okay?”

          She didn’t seem to miss a beat. Had to admire that about her. “Everything’s fine. You mean about last night, right?”

          I nodded. “What did camp leader have to say?”

          A quick look over each shoulder preceded her moving toward me. “Let’s talk inside.”

          I eagerly moved out of her way, closing the door behind her. “Hopefully nothing bad?”

          She moved closer to the center of the room, crossing her arms, turning back toward me. “Everything’s going to be okay. We talked for some time after I left. I think we’ve really needed to settle matters for quite a while.”

          I set the bag down on the table. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did she mean? About the infir…”

          “I do mind.” She interrupted me somewhat bluntly.

          “…oh. Sorry.”

          “It’s alright.” She stepped in close, running her hand through my hair with amusement, her fingers tracing carefully along the parts of my scalp that were now bare. “This is very different, but I actually like it.”

          “Glad to hear it.” I looked into her eyes. “So are we… okay?”

          “Of course we are! We’re still friends.” She answered nonchalantly.

 _Ouch_. There was that word again. “…is that all? I thought we were more than that, to be honest.”

          “More?” She looked unsure for a moment or two. “We… might be. I can’t really say for certain, Brion. I don’t want to rush into anything – not this time. And no matter what, camp leader doesn’t approve. I understand her reasons. Don’t you?”

          As much as it hurt to hear her say so, I agreed. “I’ll be leaving the country.”

          Slavya nodded gravely. “It will be like what happened last year. I… don’t know if I want that to happen again.”

          “Even with as much time as we might have to figure it out?”

          “I don’t know yet.” She pulled her hand away from me, smiling warmly. “Don’t be sad. No matter what, I’m sure things will work out. I am thankful for last night – for you. I’ve needed that for a while.”

          The devil on my shoulder quickly ran down a list of _other_ things that had been needed for a while on my end, but I quickly dismissed the little bastard. This obviously wasn’t about me. “I’m glad. And... I should thank you, too. I really needed to let that out, among other things.”

          “Other things?” she asked curiously. “What else did you need to let out?”

          “Er…” I stammered, realizing that my mouth was running ahead of my brain, the devil still present. “I mean… wow, that sounded bad.”

          The way she looked at me, I had the feeling that I didn’t need to say anything. And at this distance…

          She straightened her posture, as though adopting professionalism would salvage an increasingly awkward moment for both of us. “I should go now.”

          “Stay.”

          Slavya’s eyes flashed with a hint of surprise. My tone was surprisingly firm, but… camp leader be damned! If anything, I could at least make my intentions known. I wanted her.

          Ever conscientious, she took a tentative step back from me, her cheeks flushing red. “I know that Olga Dmitrievna is making rounds. If she finds me here, it will ruin things. There is a bit of a crisis at the moment.”

          “A crisis?”

          She shook her head. “Nothing to worry yourself about. I’m sure it will be figured out before long.”

          I didn’t care. After all of the teasing I’d endured over the past week, I felt – and likely looked – like a wild animal, ready to pounce. She could surely see it in my eyes.

          “Brion, please…” Her voice was soft, yet firm. “Don’t do this to us, okay? I want us to remember each other fondly when all of this is over, no matter what happens. Can you do that for me?”

          I nodded; at the moment, her words meant nothing to me, my brain being in autopilot. Her steady, pleading stare slowly brought me back around, and finally my damned good sense took over again, beating back the carnal part of me that wanted to attack Slavya in many senses of the word. “Okay.”

          She came to my side, giving me a peck on the cheek, which was as gentle as air. She paused briefly, and I returned it.

          Moving to the door, she cracked it open slowly to peer out. Once satisfied that there was nobody watching, she turned back toward me, a glimmer in her eye. “Let’s talk later, alright?”

          I nodded, meekly raising a hand to wave. “Later.”

          In a flash, she made her exit to the outdoors, her long braids trailing behind her as she moved quickly with the grace of a gazelle. I caught a brief final glimpse of her as I shut the door. She was really moving fast.

          I exhaled deeply, pissed off at myself. I was stuck in yet another situation where perhaps the better option would have been to be a bastard and take what I wanted, shoulder the consequences later…

_Or not. Bang the girl and let her cry about it._

          “ _Bliad!”_ I kicked the corner of my bed, making the frame ring hollowly as it impacted the wooden wall.

          My anger smoldering and my foot going numb, I sat down at the table and unpacked the lunch that Slavya had brought for me: a bologna sandwich, a few pickled tomatoes and a small carton of kefir.

          I may have been frustrated with her, but she’d thought enough of me to do that for me, at least. I knew that she was trying. It was more than I was expecting.. Thank God for girls like her. 

* * *

 

          After eating, I was about to resume the adventures of being bored out of my skull when there was another knock at the door.

          This time I wasn’t quite as apprehensive to answer, but being greeted by Olga was not particularly uplifting. I should have been expecting that I’d be getting checked up on. Slavya was right.

          She eyed me somewhat suspiciously; the smell of bologna and pickled tomatoes wasn’t an easy thing to disguise. “Found your way to the canteen, did you?” she asked.

          “I had an anonymous benefactor.” I smirked.

          The camp leader faintly shook her head, not wanting to engage. She likely knew exactly who I was talking about. “I have a task for you. I can’t rightly keep you in here all day; not when you can be of help.”

          I wanted to laugh. She was figuring all of this out _now?_ “What can I do for you?”

          “Miku and Svetlana are missing. Neither of their roommates have seen them since last night’s film. We have been searching all over camp, but have come up with nothing.”

          “Where else could they be, if not in camp?”

          “The woods. It is quite easy to lose one’s way, especially in darkness. That is why I would like you to join us and search for them out there.”

          My mind conjured up images of tattered pioneers’ uniforms, rotten with age, filled with the cleaned bones of unwitting campers from decades past. I quickly turned my mind away from such morbidity. “Well, I’ll be glad to help.”

          “You haven’t seen either of them, correct?” Olga briefly looked around the room, almost as though I’d been hiding both missing girls right under her nose.

          “Of course not. Not since last night.”

          “Let’s go to the square, then. I’d like to organize two groups to search the woods before nightfall. If we can’t find them by then, we may have to come up with other plans.”

          “Let’s go.”

* * *

          As we approached the Genda pedestal, it looked like all of the senior pioneers had been called upon. Even Zhenya had been coaxed from the library, but she understandably refused to make eye contact with me.

          “Is everyone here?" asked Olga.

          “All accounted for. Of course, with the exception of the missing,” Shurik replied.

          “Duh!” Alisa muttered. She set her eyes upon me and smirked.

          “Right. I want everyone here to organize and conduct a search of the woods. Normally I would ask for volunteers, but this time, it is mandatory. We have no time to waste!” Olga dictated.

          There were a few grumbles, but nobody raised a fuss. At least, not at the moment.

          “Slavya, I will have you in charge of a group.” The camp leader continued. “Choose three others to go with you.”

          Slavya surveyed the choices among pioneers, her eyes lingering on me for a few moments. “I will take Electronik, Zhenya and…” She continued to look back and forth.

 _“Pick me! Pick me!”_ I thought, feeling like a grade-schooler.

          “…Lena.”

          “ _Damn it!”_

          Olga nodded, looking toward the bespectacled leader of the Cybernetics club. “How about you, Shurik?”

          “Naturally, I agree with the choice.” Shurik looked thoughtful, somewhat stoic. “But seeing that we have a visitor who has come to us as a leader by principle, I would like to relegate the position to him.”

          The camp leader thought this over for a few moments, then faintly nodded before focusing on me. “So, Brion? Are you up to the task?”

          “Really? Me?” I asked.

          “Normally I wouldn’t want to risk the safety of a foreign visitor, but you’ve proven yourself diligent and capable, despite… difficulties. I believe Shurik is right.”

          This coming from a woman who’d referred to me as a “resourceful oaf” not a day before. Then again, she likely had a better record of everyone else’s screw-ups, making me into a resourceful oaf that could be trusted. “I’m honored.”

          “Very good.” She looked at the remaining pioneers available. With our numbers, I didn’t have choices – not unless I wanted to be short-handed: Alisa, Ivan and Shurik.

          Predictably, Zhenya had a look of disgust on her face. “Why must I pair with _him?_ ” she grumbled, looking toward Electronik.

          “Would you rather pair with _me_?” I asked.

          She crossed her arms, glaring at me through her glasses. “Not if my life depended on it!”

          “Alright, then.”

          Ivan raised his hand. “Olga Dmitrievna, if I may dissent: I don’t find myself up to this task. Could I be excused?”

          “And why is that?” Olga shifted toward him.

          “Well… I don’t have the strength for it. I am a technologist! I am not suited for hiking in the woods!”

          “And yet the _girls_ are.” Olga retorted.

_Burn!!!_

          Ivan attempted the brave act of going down with his ship. “I humbly agree. They are far more capable in every way.”

          Expectedly, the camp leader was unswayable. “Be that as it may, it is still your responsibility! A proper pioneer is a reliable comrade who always acts according to conscience.” She lectured, staring down at him. “How can you claim to be a reliable comrade if you won’t look after your own?”

          “I… well…” Ivan looked ashamedly at the ground. “I’m sure that Svetlana can take care of herself, anyhow! She’s only lost, but not hurt, right? Statistically…”

          Olga lifted her gaze, seeing Ulyana running gleefully across the square in what looked like phys-ed gear; as usual, traveling at warp nine. “Ulyana!” she barked, “Get over here!”

          The Flame skittered to a stop. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it!” she yelled back.

          The camp leader was obviously getting a headache, as she slapped her forehead, her Bermuda nearly falling off. “Just get over here! You’re helping!”

          The girl did as she was told, receiving a light punch in the arm from Alisa as she joined the line.

          “There. Now we have something equal to at least _one_ solid pioneer. You’re going, Ivan. That is final!”

          “Hey! I’m all pioneer!” Ulyana argued. “That makes at least one and a tenth pioneers!”

          It was slightly entertaining to watch Olga pop a vein. However, the way that Ivan was starting to sweat at the very prospect of having to venture outside of the camp was slightly disconcerting. At this rate, he was going to faint where he stood, especially with all the roasting he was getting.

          “It’s settled. Everyone, make sure to take supplies with you, and report back before it gets dark! Dismissed!”

          We broke apart into our separate groups. I surveyed my crew, just as they did me.

          Alisa smiled smugly, studying me with arrogant eyes. “So Dudley, you get to tell me what to do, now? Kissing up pays well, I see.”

          I ignored her snide remark. “Do we have any idea where we’re going? The woods are pretty big.”

          Shurik raised his hand. “I believe the clubhouse has a few maps available. I’ll see what I can find.”

          “Good. Maybe a compass? A canteen?”

          “We won’t be gone long enough to need those things, will we?” asked Ivan.

          “Hopefully not. But if we do find Miku or Svetlana, they’ll need water, at least. Maybe even food.”

          Alisa tapped Ulyana on the shoulder. “Leave it to us. We’ll be right back.”

          The majority of pioneers took off, and I was left with Ivan, who was looking back and forth nervously. I’d been laughing inwardly earlier, but my conscience was making me feel bad for the guy. Guess I was becoming more of a pioneer with every passing day. “Hey. Are you being serious right now?” I asked him.

          “Calisthenics has never been my strong suit, nor Svetlana’s,” he replied flatly. “It still makes no sense to me that she’d go missing out in the woods! She hates it just as much as I do!”

          “Yeah, well… try to man up a little. Alisa’s coming with us. Don’t you want to impress her?”

          His eyes went wide. “Of course! Absolutely! If anything, surely I’ll go for that!”

          “Then go see if Shurik needs help. Don’t forget anything we might need.”

          While he ran off, I was re-joined by Slavya’s group. Everyone had made quick work of grabbing gear and changing into proper hiking boots. She’d surely picked the more fastidious ones. “We have come up with a plan of attack!” Electronik announced.

          “That quick?” I asked.

          Slavya nodded confidently. “The woods to the north of camp have a few trails running through them. It’s also smallest. We could try there first.”

          “And south?”

          “The old camp building’s down there,” said Electronik. “Those woods are much larger. They go on for kilometers, past the lake.”

          Past the lake… I didn’t want to think that Miku and Svetlana had gone that far; not so much for their own safety, but for the fact that we could be at this for days if they had. “That old building sounds like it would be the perfect place to get lost at.”

          Electronik scratched his head. “So should we split the groups? One to the north, one to the south?”

          I thought about it. All of my days playing RTS games – or hell, watching horror movies, of course – told me that splitting up was risky. With our numbers, we stood a better chance of finding someone by eliminating one area before moving to the next.

          Then again, time was of the essence, too. If we spent too much time searching the wrong area, it’d be just as good as not going at all.

          “I’ll take the south.”

          They both looked at me with surprise. “Really?” asked Slavya.

          “Yeah. The old camp sounds like a good lead. Might even be fun.”

          “Be careful!” Electronik laughed. “Legends say that it’s haunted!”

          On top of all the crazy things that had been happening, the idea of something paranormal was…

          Well, to be honest, I couldn’t rule it out. I already had cryptic notes filled with strange juju left by a mysterious visitor to contend with. Why not add little ghosties to the mix?

          “I ain’t ‘fraid of no ghost.” I chuckled.

          Slavya smiled approvingly. “Cool. Then I guess I’ll take my group north and cover as much ground as we can before heading south to join you.”

          The plan sounded good. However, someone had to be a fly in the ointment; Zhenya moodily cleared her throat, standing purposefully back from everyone else. “Has Olga Dmitrievna even bothered to contact the authorities?” she asked. “After all, they’re more qualified to deal with this sort of thing than we are. We could even go and call them ourselves. It’s only an hour’s drive to the nearest village.”

          “It will be dark when they arrive! We shouldn’t waste time!” Slavya asserted. “Besides, this is what camp leader has decided!”

          “Yeah. And I doubt Viola’s letting anyone near her car for quite a while,” I remarked, throwing a glance at Electronik. He laughed nervously.

          “Fine.” Zhenya grumbled, sulking. Looked like she and Ivan needed to arrange a date. They could be grumpy homebodies together.

* * *

          Before long, my group returned. The boys had loaded themselves down with a considerable amount of gear; binoculars, maps, compasses, and a couple of bulky-looking green boxes. “What are those?” I asked, pointing.

          “Short-wave walkie-talkies. Old military gear,” Shurik replied, handing one of the devices over to me, the other to Electronik. “We can use these to communicate between the two groups. Olga Dmitrievna should also be able to monitor us with a standard receiver.”

          The green brick had some heft to it and seemed very simple, with only two dials to turn. A leather strap screwed into the side allowed it to be worn over the shoulder, which was a good thing; it was expectedly heavy and nowhere near being cutting edge, even in this time.

          Beside changing attire, Alisa and Ulyana had gathered enough supplies to fill two hefty-looking backpacks, one of which was handed to me. “Here. You can be the mule,” Alisa said with a wry smile.

          The pack had to weigh a good five to ten kilograms. “The hell do you have in this thing? The kitchen _and_ the sink?” I asked.

          “Flashlights, batteries, blankets, first aid kit, water, and food. Haven’t you been on a hike before?”

          “Fair enough.” I slung it over my shoulders, thankful that I still had some strength left after all the rowing I’d done the previous night.

          Still, not knowing how long we’d be out there, I wagered that I’d pawn the pack off onto someone else before long.

          Once we’d gone over the plans and situated our gear, it was time to head out. We bid Slavya and her group farewell as they broke off from us, taking the fork that would lead them toward the music building and into the woods north.

          The south shore of camp was bustling with activity, the rest of the campers blissfully unaware of the situation at hand. They paid us little mind as we marched through with our varied assortment of kit.

          Ulyana, who was marching second in line, looked at the younger pioneers having fun on the beach, biting her bottom lip with longing.

          “Wanna go play?” I asked.

          She turned, eyes lighting up. “Really? Can I?”

          I reached out and ruffled her hair. “Nope. Keep walking.”

          “Rgh!” She fussed, stomping along behind Alisa, who had somehow taken the lead. “Why do I have to go do this? Svetlana doesn’t even _like_ me! She’d probably run if she saw me!”

          “Well, why didn’t you tell Olga Dmitrievna that when you had the chance?”

          Alisa snorted. “Yeah, that would’ve worked out. She doesn’t kiss up like you do, mister Do Right.”

          “Yeah? Wasn’t Svetlana running from you, too?”

          “Maybe. It’s not like she didn’t have it coming, but even if she didn’t, I was chosen. I’ll get her, even if I have to smack her around a bit.”

          Ivan nervously cleared his throat. “Um, Alisa, if you wouldn’t do that, I would be very grateful.”

          He was cut down to size by a fiery glare over her shoulder. “Whatever. She’d better not give me a reason. Anyway, I’m more concerned about Miku.” She looked at me. “You too, probably.”

          “Why me?” I asked.

          “I saw you two getting cozy yesterday. If you think I don’t notice everything in camp, you’re joking with yourself.”

          “That was… well, nothing.”

          “Yeah. Whole lot of nothing,” she chortled. “Holding hands while she was cuddled up with you.”

          “Really?” Ulyana was supremely curious. “No way! Brion’s not that kind of guy!”

          “Thank you!” I expressed a bit too gratefully. “At least someone here thinks so.”

          “ _Pfft._ Please,” Alisa countered. “If he were any better at chasing blue skirts, camp leader could sent him out here alone. He’d sniff them out like a wolfhound.”

          “Does this really need to be discussed?” Shurik interjected. “It sounds like a personal affair. We should focus on the task.”

          Despite being the voice of reason, he was ignored. “Maybe we should call him _Borzoi_ instead!” Ulyana suggested.

          Alisa snickered. “It works! Chasing skirts, kissing camp leader’s behind… but I prefer _Petushok_. Little male chicken with a comb and an attitude problem.” She boisterously reached back and mussed up my hair, bending it in multiple directions.

          I jumped out of her reach, waving her off. “You know, I’m supposed to be locked down because I _didn’t_ kiss the camp leader’s butt. More like I was kissing yours.” I grumpily snipped at her.

          She began cracking her knuckles, closing the distance between us. “Say that again. Louder, so my fist can hear you.”

          Shurik quickened his step, courageously stepping into the line of fire. “Must there really be an argument at this point in time? We have barely left camp! I’m not in charge, but I urge you both to stop!”

          I hated to admit it, but he was right. Some leader I was turning out to be – and we’d only been on the move for a few minutes! “Yeah. You got it.” I did my best to move the subject forward. “Ulyana, Miku’s out there too. If not for Svetlana, well, then do it for her. That’s sad, but it is what it is.”

          “I suppose.” Ulyana replied. “But… I barely talk to Miku!”

          “She does all the talking for everyone.” Ivan mumbled. “She shouldn’t be hard to find.”

          The little joke got a chuckle from everyone in the group, including Shurik. I felt a little bad for the missing girl, but I was all for something that would keep us away from each other’s throats for the moment.

 

          We moved into the woods, leaving Sovyonok behind us, staying parallel to the shore of the lake. As we did, I looked out toward the islands. Of course, doing so inspired memories of my previous night. The closest one, even at a distance, looked inviting with its lush greenery.

          Further than that, there was the other island. It was slightly less wooded, longer in length, its shore littered with boulders. Its defunct lighthouse stood solemnly, a beacon to the unknown.

          “Has anyone checked those?” I asked, pointing. “Maybe the girls got stranded out there.”

          “All boats have been accounted for.” Shurik replied. “It was among the first suggestions.”

          “Sveta hates the lake, anyhow.” Ivan gave his input, lingering in the back of our line. “Even to bathe in. She refuses to go near it.”

          “Bathe? You guys _bathe_ in that lake?”

          Both of the boys shook their heads. Ulyana turned around to me. “I do! It’s easier than spraying yourself at the wash stands every day!”

          “And it’s why camp leader lost it when she saw you marching down there with a bar of soap in your hand that one time,” Alisa said, elbowing her.

          “I know. So I just go without! It works fine!”

          “And smell like water that fish farted in. Nice.” I remarked.

          “Scientifically speaking, the fish do much more than just flatulate in the lake,” Shurik advised with a very small hint of a smile.

          “ _Haw!_ ’Flatulate’”? Alisa laughed. “Listen to this boy…”

          Ulyana thought long and hard about this – for her, that was about two seconds. “It’s okay, I can just borrow perfume!”

          “Is _that_ where all my perfume goes?” Alisa gritted her teeth. “I thought I was losing my mind all this time!”

          “No honor among thieves.” Ulyana winked at me.

          “Just the same, I’ll stick with the faucets.” I winked back at her and shifted the weight of the radio. “Now that we’re talking about it, why are there no working showers in Sovyonok?”

          “There is a joke I heard on the radio,” Ivan replied, clearing his throat. “A man saved his rubles for years to buy a car. He went to the ministry and told them he would like to purchase one. ‘We’re sorry, sir,’ they said, ‘There is a shortage. It will be three years before your car is available.’

          “‘Three years?’ He asked. ‘What month?’

          “‘August.’

          “’What day in August?’

          “’Second of August.’

          “’Morning or afternoon?’

          “’Why does it matter?’

          “’The plumber is coming in the morning!’” Ivan cackled loudly.

          It took a few seconds for the humor to set in for me. Either it was a bad joke or I simply didn’t understand what sounded like a vague poke at Communism, but I finally laughed with everyone else. It may have been a half-hearted one, but I laughed. “Alright, I get it.”

          Our moods a little lighter, we continued to move into the forest, keeping our eyes open for red neckerchiefs, white shirts or blue skirts – anything that would lead us to our missing pioneer girls.

          With luck, we’d find them before sundown. Who knew what the woods really held at night?


	22. A Camp Long Forgotten

          “Dare you to stick your hand in it.”

          I’d stood on the eroded path for a good five minutes, where a bit of the old asphalt had begun to reappear.

          “Some potty break,” I mumbled to myself, wondering what the hell was taking so long for Ivan and Shurik to get their business done and join back up with the rest of us.

          In time, Ulyana and Alisa headed off as well, obviously more prone to boredom than I was. Guess my time in confinement had made me numb.

          Eventually, I took a chance and decided to move off in the girls’ direction; something told me that they were not taking a personal break themselves. At least, I hoped not; I’d be dead in a heartbeat in that case.

          Ulyana was squatting down next to a swamp, cattails rising above the tall grass. The recent rains had brought many frogs, and one in particular rested on a stone rising from the water, its weight and girth just plain embarrassing. She and Alisa had come up on the Jabba The Hutt of frogs.

          To add to this curiosity, the amphibian was apparently sunning itself with its mouth wide open. I didn’t know much about them, but it seemed cartoonish and strange that a creature would try such a lazy method of hunting for insects.

          Either that, or it had some sort of frog “diabeetus” and was slowly dying in the summer sun.

          With a stick in hand, Ulyana was leaning forward in an attempt to prod the creature. It wasn’t reacting in the slightest.

          I watched the two girls silently from a few steps behind, the older one seeming more like a watchful guardian than a fellow pioneer.

          That is, until she made her little dare with a mischievous tone in her voice. That anchored her pretty well, but I still couldn’t help smiling at the Rockwell-esque scene in front of me.

          “What’ll you give me?” Ulyana asked.

          Alisa shrugged. “I dunno. Name something and I’ll see.”

          “You could let me try your bra on again!”

          Alisa snorted. “Yeah, _right_! That’s definitely not happening.”

          “Why not? We’re even being watched, just like then!”

          How she’d noticed me, I’ll never fully know. I’d done my best to be as quiet as a mouse, but it hadn’t done me much good. Both of their heads turned, and with a stupid smile on my face, I was apparently in some kind of trouble – Alisa bared her teeth, now sinister in appearance. “ _Yeeeess?”_

          “I like Ulyana’s idea. Sounds like fun.” I mentioned with a chuckle.

          “Fun? I’ll show you what’s fun…”

          Coming straight at me, she feigned a kick to my jewels, which I narrowly dodged. “Hey, come on!” I laughed. “These are important to me.”

          Alisa was now grinning, although it wasn’t from happiness. She made another attempt to hit me where it hurt. “I know! Stand still, damn it. I can’t hit them if you keep moving!”

          “That’s the idea!” I held my hands in front of me to protect myself, just in case she did manage to nail me between the legs.

          “Guys!” Shurik called from the path, waving the map in one hand. “We’re ready to set out again.”

          I turned to give him a thumbs-up. “Alright, we’ll be right there in a sec...”

_* **SMACK!!!***_

          A sizable ball of moist soil and little pebbles smashed into the side of my face, chunks showering everywhere. Alisa looked rather proud of her point-blank assault, unashamedly brown-handed.

          “What was that for, damn it?” I asked in annoyance.

          “For being you.” Her grin turned into a smirk. “Serves you right for eavesdropping.”

          I brushed bits of dirt off of my head. “Well hey, it’s either that or listen to Shurik and Ivan paying the water bill. No thanks.”

          “Paying the what?” Ulyana asked, now joining us with a frog – not the fat one – in her hands.

          “The water bill. You know, they’re giving back.”

          The frog quickly hopped away, leaving the girl’s hands dripping. It didn’t take much explanation to know what had just happened.

          “ _Ugh!_ Gross!” Ulyana whined.

          “Just like that!” I laughed.

          Thinking quickly, she turned and rinsed her hands in the swamp water, which probably had more frog piss in it than was currently on her, but I wasn’t going to stop her.

          “How much further?” Alisa asked, looking back toward the path.

          “Shurik said what… two more kilometers?” I struggled to process this information; the heat was starting to get to me.

          “Unless we get lost _again_.” She stepped a bit closer to me, lowering her voice. “Why did Slavya have to take all the actual smart ones with her? These eggheads can’t navigate for shit.”

          “Who would have thought?” I agreed. “It shouldn’t be much more than ‘Walk west for a while and stop’. But hey, at least we’re still together, right? We’re covering ground.”

          She chuckled. “We’ve hardly been out here, Dudley. We’ve been lost twice already.”

          Truly she was hitting them out of the park today. By my figuring, we should have gotten there in less than an hour; and that was if we were dogging it.

          That hour had come and gone. Before that, we'd exited camp through a southern gate that I hadn't even known about; a steel door in the brick wall that separated our camp from the rest of the world.

          Beyond that, we’d yet to come up on anything that looked more man-made than an old path decaying back into gravel. That and a breakdown in who was heading navigation had put us way behind; Ivan, taking a page from his sister's book, was set on disagreeing with Shurik. We'd been led in a near perfect circle before realizing what had happened.

          “So what are you saying, _Dva’tch_?” I asked.

          “That… does _not_ make it better, jerk.” She stuck a finger in my face, quickly pulling it away. “I think we should split up. Let the dorks build themselves a rocket to fly back to camp. We can handle this – just you, me, and Ulyana.”

          “Whoa. What’s gotten into you? You actually want to send them packing?” I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing from her.  “What will the camp leader say? We need people to get this done.”

          She chuckled, smirking. “I was just messing with you. Wanted to see if you’d agree.”

          “And?”

          She walked past me, close enough for me to get a whiff of her aforementioned perfume. She looked over her shoulder at me before making her way up the embankment, toward the path. “And you didn’t.”

          I looked back to Ulyana, who was finally coming along to join us, still drying her hands on her skirt. She looked at me inquisitively. “What? Don’t say more ‘grown-up stuff’.”

          “No… I don’t think so, anyway.” I was truthfully a bit weirded out by Alisa’s behavior. She was sending some very mixed signals; at least, it seemed that way.

          “Ya sure?” She added with a wink.

          I eyed her cautiously. “What do you know?”

          “Nothing!” Her eyes closed in jovial defiance, and in an impressive display of reading my mind, added, “And you would never do anything bad to me, so there! Don’t even say it.”

          I was beginning to feel Olga’s headache; trying to get past Ulyana’s indomitable impudence would take a large investment of my remaining sanity, provided that she was being feisty, which she was. I had enough problems to deal with already, so I simply dropped the topic.

* * *

           We continued on our journey, the asphalt breaking up into the occasional crackled patch, tall weeds growing in between. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that we’d stumbled into the Exclusion Zone around Pripyat. Nature was surely doing its job of reclaiming its territory.

          “Look!” Ulyana bolted forward and off the path at one point, causing all of us to look after her in alarm. Her slender figure knelt down, then rose back up to show us a long red neckerchief that had been cast down onto the ground.

          I studied the fabric, noting that it looked fairly clean; it had to belong to one of the girls.

          Upon closer inspection, a long, silvery-white hair caught in the knot indicated that this belonged to Svetlana. I pulled the strand out and held it in the light for the others to see.

          “Sveta!” Ivan, immediately losing his cool, called out loudly, turning this way and that.

          We all strained to hear, but were only greeted by bird songs. Wherever she was, it was still far from here, but we had a solid lead now.

          “Too bad we don’t have that  _Borzoi_ with us.” I mentioned.

          “We do!” Ulyana said with a wink. “I’m looking at him!”

          “Ha. Ha.” I folded up the neckerchief and stuffed it into my pocket. “We’re on the right trail. At least we know she’s out here. That old building’s gotta have something.”

          “Sveta!” Ivan called again, louder this time. Before long he’d be shouting himself ragged.

          “I don’t believe that will be beneficial,” Shurik said, silencing his companion.

          “Come on!” Alisa was making her way further up the path. “I wanna get this over with already!”

          We took off after her, making our way through the trees with some degree of difficulty. The path was once again absent, forcing us to improvise.

* * *

          At last, the path became more solid pavement that crunched underfoot.  We made our way past tall, unruly grass growing next to rusty wrought-iron fencing, about a meter high. The trees began to break in density, and in the distance... 

          The old camp building was roughly two stories tall. A high, sloping roof of corrugated, rusted sheet metal sat atop an imposing edifice of aged brick and decayed wood, the few remaining windows clouded with age and dust. My immediate thoughts were of an old-fashioned schoolhouse, or perhaps an orphanage. 

          With all of its decay and sad appearance of mixed materials, I wanted to say that it had once seen better days, but that would have been a lie; it probably looked like hell when it was new. An old, rusted slide in the yard out front and a rusted carousel – one of those playground implements that I’d once delighted in being launched from repeatedly as a child – provided proof that this had once been a place where young'ns laughed and played.

          “Damn. What a wreck,” I remarked. “This used to be _Sovyonok_?”

          “Not precisely,” replied Shurik. “The name is not known, but _Sovyonok_ is what took its place. This is where the famous pioneer, Sergey Chekhov, helped to defend against invading Nazi forces during World War II.”

          “Yep! I read all about it!” Ulyana announced proudly. “He shot twenty-three Germans with a rifle he’d been given by an old Partisan! All by himself!”

          I nodded. “Sounds like a real model pioneer. Olga would be proud.”

          “Actually, I believe the number was fifteen, and he had help from other pioneers as well.” Shurik corrected her. “In any case, he proved himself quite a hero for our Motherland.”

          While we were going over the brief history lesson, Alisa stood slightly in front of our group, surveying the dilapidated structure before us and not particularly paying attention. “Can we get this over with?” she asked. “I’m getting hungry. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can take another break.”

          The way that she spoke, it sounded like she was gunning to oust me as a leader. Not that I’d particularly mind, but I took it as a sign to step things up. “Right,” I replied. “Let’s clear this place out. Might as well knock it off the list of possibles.” I motioned to the entrance to the building, whose rusted doors had been wrenched from their hinges long ago and lay discarded by the front steps.

          “I’m coming with.” Alisa declared.

          “Me too!” Ulyana stood close by me.

          I looked to Shurik and Ivan. “Guys?”

          Shurik stood motionless, looking inexplicably like a deer in the headlights for a few moments before recomposing himself. “I… will stay out here and check the grounds. Perhaps there are more clues to be found.”

          It seemed a bit odd that, in a situation such as this, the girls were showing more guts than the boys. Then again, the camp leader’s roasting of Ivan earlier had already confirmed that. “Alright, then. Holler if you find something.”

          While Shurik headed off with Ivan in tow, the girls and I moved through the rusted gates and approached the entryway to the building, which I pointed to with a suave motion of the hand. “Ladies first.”

          “What?” Alisa bristled slightly. “Screw that! You’re going first, _Petushok_. Strut ahead and peck the camp leader’s ghost!”

          Ulyana giggled fiendishly. “Yeah! Right in the eye!”

          “What are you two going on about now?” I asked.

          “You don’t know the story?” The redhead looked shocked and surprised.

          I cleared my throat. “You forget that I’m the one visiting? Of course I don’t know the story!”

          Alisa looked amused, shifting her weight to one foot. With a haughty chuckle, she looked me up and down. “It’s perfect for you. Here we go: One summer, long ago, a certain camp leader met a pioneer that she absolutely had to have -- In the worst way!”

          I rolled my eyes, already knowing where this was going. “Really? Come on, you can do better than that.”

          “It’s true!” Ulyana confirmed – not convincingly. “She fell in love with a pioneer, but he said no!”

          “Well, good for him.”

          Alisa’s eyes popped a bit; she was obviously trying to go for scare factor. Actually, with how intense she was, it was working. “No, not good at all! After he rejected her, she couldn’t take it…”

          “So she stabbed herself!” Ulyana piped in.

          “Hey!” Alisa flashed a quick glare at her younger companion. “ _I’m_ telling the story! So, yeah...” She took a step closer to me, giving me a menacing grin. “She confessed her feelings to him, and being that he was a good, respectable pioneer, he rejected her. Broke her poor heart.”

          “Good and respectable. Just like me, which you tend to give me crap about…”

          She ignored me. “So… being distraught and broken, the camp leader went to the kitchen at night when everyone was asleep. She took a knife, and swearing that nobody else could have him if she couldn’t, she stabbed him and broke the neck of a pioneer girl, then did herself in!”

          I briefly felt a chill travel up my spine. “C… come on!” I did my best to give a sardonic response, but I was sure that I wasn’t fooling anyone. “Bullshit meter just went off the scale.”

          “Wait! That’s not how I heard it!” Ulyana jumped back in. “She killed herself only, but the pioneer got hit by a bus the next day!”

          “That’s the lame version of the story!” Alisa countered. “The point is… her ghost is said to live here. Sometimes, during the day, she appears as a living person, still in her uniform. She tells people that she’s from our camp, making sure no pioneers are getting lost here… but afterward, she vanishes without a trace…”

          She glanced over my shoulder, and her eyes widened, expressing such horror that I wheeled around in a flash –

          Only to see the empty entrance to the building. There was nothing waiting for me; no ghosts, no creatures of any kind.  “Damn you!” I grunted.

          My storyteller snickered smugly. “Got you, you wuss! But that’s not the best part: They say that if you come here at night… well…” The short hairs on my head started to stand as she continued the tale. “She’ll find you. She appears all cut up, ghostly and bleeding. If you’re a boy, she’ll scream at you for not loving her, then she’ll stab you to death. If you’re a girl, she’ll claim that you got in her way… then torment you endlessly until you finally kill yourself.”

          I subconsciously took a look at my watch, then shook my wrist. “No. Nice story, but no.”

          “Go in alone, then! I dare you.” She seemed to really be getting her jollies from this. “If you think it’s a lie, you’ll have no problem!”

          “I don’t know…” Ulyana honestly looked terrified – not a look I’d expected to see from her. She quickly composed herself and grinned. “What if ghost leader likes him and takes him away?”

          Alisa nodded, winking. “Could happen! He does love to kiss up. Future pioneers wouldn’t have to worry anymore, because the ghost leader would finally have her man!”

          I sighed. “Fine, want me to go in alone?” I turned around to the empty doorway and took a few purposeful strides forward, making it to the top of the steps in short order. I glanced back over my shoulder. “You ready for this?”

          “Oh wow, look at him! Such a brave rooster!” The rebel mocked me from the yard, flapping her “wings” momentarily. “Go on, then!”

          A dusty forward room filled with cobwebs, rubble and broken floor boards awaited me, along with a dismal staircase extending up into darkness. I shrugged the backpack I’d been carrying off of my shoulders, setting it next to the doorway. “Alright,” I said over my shoulder. “Nice knowing you.”

          Stepping inside, I felt like kicking myself for being so easily manipulated by a couple of rowdy girls. In a way, I’d always been the type to do just that; not much had changed since high school.

          The interior reeked of age. Old, musty dust covered every surface. It was truly a playground of desolation, the birthplace of pioneer legends. A place that at one point had been the pride and joy of many as pioneers came and went with the changing of seasons. 

          As I made my way in and out of several rooms rife with old trash and peeling wall paint, I had to admit that I was about as intrigued as I was scared of the place; I’d occasionally trespassed into abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere as a kid. They were nestled in parts of the desert that time had forgotten. Often there wasn't much to see other than graffiti, torn insulation and random crap left behind. 

          Exploring a place like this was like a dream come to life. It sounded cheesy, but I couldn’t find any other way to put it. As I went, the presence of old, forgotten books, torn posters, toys and rusted bed frames -- some with withered, stained mattresses covered in rodent droppings -- made for my ultimate find in urban exploration.

          Of course, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that something felt very off about the place. It seemed almost… perfect, somehow. Perfectly calculated in its misery. If I found a dead body in here, it would be _me_  who didn’t belong; the grisly discovery would be perfectly in its element here. Simply a fixture.

          As my brain continued to dabble in the macabre, I took careful steps, moving past one empty room after another.

          “Empty” being a relative term – there was plenty of old junk here, but not a single pioneer girl. Had either Miku or Svetlana taken shelter here overnight, their best option would have been to simply stay put, keep out of the elements, wait for somebody like one of us to come happening along.

          Of course, there was always the chance that common sense wasn’t a strong suit. I’d seen enough of that in both of them.

          “Miku!” I called out, deciding that now would be the time to start making noise; no reason to be stingy in the most likely place to find something missing. “Svetlana!”

          There was no response. Nothing at all except the sounds of nature outside, and even they seemed a little muted.

          I wandered through what looked to be the camp’s old kitchen; a flat baking pan lying in the dust on the floor in front of a furnace missing a door confirmed that much. My eyes fell upon an old chopping block rife with carve marks. Thanks to Alisa’s story, I found myself having flashbacks.

_“She went down to the kitchen… swearing that nobody else could have him… and killed…”_

          The words came to me in disjointed flashes, my mind making its own paraphrase, giving me only the juiciest bits.

          I began to picture the ghost of a young camp leader in the night. I envisioned her as a sort of “bizzaro” Olga Dmitrievna; I couldn’t venture a guess why – point of reference, I suppose. Her eyes were blue, her hair black, but she wore the same uniform I’d grown accustomed to.

_Her gaze lingering on a variety of choices, she all-too-calmly selects a carving knife with a walnut handle, the long blade gleaming… she knows what she’s going to do. By now, she’s got it all planned out; a good camp leader would know everything going on in her camp… where he would be sleeping… but she wouldn’t have counted on one of the other girls being right there… right in her way…_

          I shook my head. I really had to focus.

          Doing a room-to-room search on the first floor, I came up empty. I returned to the entranceway, intent on calling to Alisa and Ulyana to finally get them in on the search… but they were nowhere to be seen.

          “Should’ve guessed they’d bail, damn it,” I grumbled to myself. Of course they’d pull a trick! Who else would _want_ to come in here besides myself?

          Turning back around, I noticed an odd pattern in the floorboards –  a section that didn’t quite fit, out of alignment with the others. A closer look revealed hinges – a hatch of some sort! With the dust around it looking to be freshly disrupted, it appeared that our search would be heading down.

          My fingers were able to get purchase around the sides, and the hatch opened with little problem, the hinges squealing loudly in protest. A set of rickety wooden stairs led downward into pitch blackness.

          “Well, not going down there alone,” I muttered, gazing into the depths below. Without a light of their own, it wasn’t likely that Miku or Svetlana would have gone down there themselves, but then, I had no way of…

          “Whatsa matter?!” Alisa practically barked into my ear from behind.

          I tried to suppress a jump, but I failed miserably, nearly falling down the steps. She grinned, unashamedly pleased with herself.

          “Fuck!” I growled. “Don’t do that!”

          She snickered. “Such a wuss! Is our rooster turning into a chicken now?”

          “No!”

          There was no convincing her, of course. Still grinning, she motioned toward the hatch. “Go on, then!”

          “Hold on. We should get the others, let someone know where we’ll be.”

          “Why? It’s probably just an old wine cellar. Find us a bottle and you’ll be a hero. At least, to me.”

          From what I’d gathered about Alisa, I’d had the feeling that she wouldn’t mind the occasional drink. Still, even if I found something down there, it’d likely be vinegar by now. “Hey, I already did a dare, remember? It’s your turn.”

          Her eyebrows arched upward. “Really, now? Is that what we’re doing?” She thought about it. “Alright, then. Give me a flashlight.”

          “It’s all outside.”

          She tilted her head slightly. “Alright then, _Borzoi_. Go fetch!”

          “You know what, just once, you could use my actual name. Go get it yourself.”

          With a huff that could be read as “fat chance”, she stomped off to where I’d left the pack and rummaged through, producing a cheap-looking flashlight with a gray plastic body, chucking it to me. She grabbed one for herself, making sure to test it by shining it straight in my eyes.

          “Nice. Thanks. Real mature,” I complained, holding a hand up.

          She came back over to the hatch, shining her own light down the steps. Looking in, I could see that it went down quite a bit; definitely not a little cellar full of bottles.

          “Come on. Let’s get this done sometime this century.” Alisa boldly took a step or two down, the wood creaking under her weight.

          “Hold on.”

          She looked back to me, pointedly annoyed. “What? What are you waiting for?”

          “We should still call for help. I have the radio; it could take five minutes.”

          “Then take five minutes!” She snipped. “I’ll be back before then, anyhow.”

          With that, her orange hair disappeared into the darkness, the light playing back and forth down the steps.

          “Damn it…” I had to decide what to do. The girl was brave – likely too brave, it would seem. The right thing to do would be to get everyone in, make sure that Slavya and her group knew what we were up to.

          Of course, the idea of Alisa going and doing something that could get her hurt…

          Being that she was the second person in camp to smash my nose, she’d hardly endeared me to the point of really giving a rat’s ass about her safety.

          Even so, I couldn’t help being a little bit concerned. I shined the light down after her, catching the reflection of her neckerchief before she stepped quickly away, reaching the bottom of the steps in no time.

          “Alisa!” I called. “Come on, just wait, will you?”

          No response. I waited a solid five seconds. “Alisa.”

          Silence greeted me, nothing more. My brain conjured images of some strange creature dragging her off into the darkness, its aim to torment her before feeding on her flesh, eat her dazzling amber eyes one after the other like grapes.

          “You and your damned horror films,” I muttered, taking a few steps down. I shook my head, instantly regretting again that this girl was getting me wrapped around her little finger.

 _“Come on, Dudley. Come rescue the damsel in distress._ ” I could easily hear her saying something like that.

          I took a few more steps, finally committing to my choice; if I could keep her from doing something stupid, that would save everyone a lot of trouble. I wasn’t completely whipped by Olga. Not yet.

          Unlike above, the air down below was dry and dusty, and as I stepped away from the wooden stairs, batting away cobwebs, my light fell upon old, decayed brick complete with cracks and rough cement between. The wonders of Communist labor!

          An empty, rusted bucket… a broken crate… dirt, rubble… I turned slowly, letting my light play along the walls, hoping that I’d run straight into my female counterpart.

          Lending wings to my earlier fear, she was nowhere in sight. Instead, as I looked around the cellar, I began to pick up piles of rubble and bricks with my flashlight. It looked as though some type of construction had taken place in a hurry at one point.

          To go along with this, a large hallway of steel and concrete stood before me, extending beyond my range of vision. Unlike the building above and the room I was in, this looked like a tunnel made to last. A tunnel with a purpose, made with a degree of precision.

          Amidst light fixtures that had long ago gone dormant, lengths of thick electrical cables were held aloft by iron hooks, running the length of the walls. This couldn't have been in the building's original blueprint. This was more like something out of _STALKER_. As I’d deduced earlier, there was something off about this whole place.

          If there was some force creating all of this just for me – a theory that I could only kick around with half seriousness – this could almost be seen as pandering. My desire to be a reckless explorer was taking precedence. Add possible trespassing to that list and an opportunity like this was irresistible.

          “And im’ygine me, Sergey, with no boolts to threw eento an’yomaly!” I entertained myself momentarily in English, adorned in a comically thick “Russian” accent.

          I took a long look down the hallway, noting quickly how it went far beyond what my flashlight could reach. This definitely was not in the original plans for this camp. The boys had mentioned World War II, which meant that this was likely to be remnants of a series of bunkers, or a bomb shelter.

          With only one way to go, I planted my feet solidly for a few seconds before moving forward, remaining cautious with every meter.

          “Alisa!” I called. Where had she gone to so quickly? Did she run? I’d expected to at least see her flashlight somewhere in the darkness, but there was nothing to indicate that she’d even come through at all. But then, where else would she have gone?

          My voice disappeared into the void, letting me know that I had a journey on my hands. If I really wanted to find her, it would take a bit more doing than simply wandering in.

          The more I thought about it, the gear above would be useful. I’d abandoned it in my half-baked pursuit to chase after a blue skirt. Going back up for it would have been the smart thing to do.

          However, doing so would delay me in finding Alisa, and the way she was currently moving, there was no telling just how far she’d be by the time I came back down. It seemed better – in a sense – to chase her down sooner, rather than later.

_Wow, those girls really do have me figured out._

          I shined my light straight down the tunnel one more time, and in a manner that would make my college professor proud, called out again as loud as I could. “Alisa!”

          This time my voice echoed back, a ghostly cacophony that made the hair on my arms stand up. Somewhere in there, she had to have heard me. Those tones had to let her know that I wanted her back _yesterday_.

          “Don’t do this!” I continued, moving forward at a quickening pace. “Damn it…”

          My fast walk turned into a run. I didn’t care at that moment if I was doing something completely irresponsible and idiotic. If something happened to her…

          I thought about that. What _if_ something happened to her down here? She wasn’t my responsibility, as much as the camp leader would likely try to make it seem. Knowing her, I’d get chewed out royally for not being able to keep _Dva-Cheh_ under control; as though something like that were actually possible!

          The hallway continued for some time. Minute after minute passed, and the walls continued blandly, everything looking the same no matter how far I traveled. These catacombs couldn’t have been built solely to protect against the simple bombing of a pioneer camp. Perhaps this was an underground railroad? A way to thwart the advancing _Blitzkreig_ in capturing children and teens?

* * *

 

          More time passed, and after a while I had to stop, get the fire out of my lungs. I continued to peer into the darkness of the tunnel, shining the light along more wiring, more dead lights. “Hello?” I called.

          My voice rang in a similar fashion as before, met only with silence. I was really alone here.

_Well, not necessarily alone…_

          My brain processed this information, and hit on something very pertinent: There was no way in hell that Alisa had gotten this far. Not so much that she wasn’t a good runner – she likely was – but she’d have no reason!

          It was very possible that I'd passed her in the dark, and she was probably having a laugh at just how much of a goober I was being.

          “Good going, you fucking moron,” I said to myself, coughing and turning back the way I came. “See what happens when you keep chasing girls? You get stuck in a literal damn hole in the ground.”

          I took a few steps, then tripped over something – something soft, hollow, manmade. I’d missed it in the dark; an easy mistake to make.

          Cursing at my clumsiness, I shined my light down at the floor to kick whatever it was that had gotten in my way.

          It was a shoe. A shiny, brown leather slip-on, a bit on the small side. My eyes widening at my find, I picked it up and studied it in the light, noting a few scrapes along its otherwise flawless surface. It was clean, indicative of someone who didn’t get their hands dirty very often. It could have belonged to any of the girls at camp...

          “So that’s it, then?”

          A voice came from behind me. I’d been right – or wrong, depending on how you looked at it. Alisa had indeed made it down here, but she wasn’t having a laugh. In fact, in the halo of my flashlight, she looked disappointed. Although, it was hard to really tell in this situation.

          “What?” I asked dumbly.

          “You… you know. You’re giving up?”

          Wait, a stammer? Something was very wrong here. I nearly bit my tongue off with ways to respond to that. “Well… were you were hoping I wouldn’t?”

          She stepped closer. “I… yeah. Of course, that’s all part of the game, right?” A note of bravado returned to her voice, but there was some fragility in there.

          "Well, if it's a game to you, then you lost. Because now I caught you."

          Her eyes widened. "Hey, you cheater! No fair."

          "There aren't any rules for this!"

          She shook her head, flustered. "Whatever. Just don't think anything; it's not like I really wanted you to catch me, jerk."

          I bent my brow; didn't want me to give up, but didn't want me to catch her, either. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

          She motioned to the shoe I was holding. “What’s that?”

          “Best clue so far. You recognize it?”

          She focused on it for a few seconds, nodding briefly. “It’s Miku’s. That means she’s been down here.”

          “Looks like you were right, then. This wasn’t for nothing. Now we have a solid lead.”

          “See?” she replied smugly. She gave way to her usual arrogance. “Always listen to me!”

           I rolled my eyes. “I’ll remember that. Mind if we get the hell out of here, now?”

* * *

          At first she teased me about how, indeed, I should listen to everything she has to say. Ever. That kept her busy for a good five minutes while we walked back the way we came.

          Once that topic dried up, she fell short of words. No small talk. Just a heavy wall of silence.

          I hadn't been keeping time, but I vaguely knew how far I could walk in five minutes. By my estimate, we'd wandered for at least a kilometer in near perfect darkness when I began to worry. There was much more to these tunnels than met the eye, so it seemed. With only two people, it was a foolish attempt. Alone was practically suicidal.

          I looked over briefly, shining my flashlight this way and that, noting how cold Alisa's face had gotten. She'd deny it, but I was positive that she wasn't doing so hot. Gone was the amused sarcasm she normally wore around people. She walked with her arms wrapped around herself, occasionally turning her head to the side, as though looking over her shoulder.

          The never-ending hallway began to make me feel as though we were caught in a loop of some sort, like we were trapped in an alternate dimension. We were going to be stuck here until we officially lost our marbles.

          I shook my head, sighing as we went. “Keep it together,” I mumbled.

          “You talk to yourself a lot, you know that?” Alisa asked. Her elbow brushed mine. Apparently she wasn't completely clocked out.

          “Guilty as charged. Did I tell myself something you don’t like?”

          She shook her head. “No. I agree with you. Keep it together.”

          “It’s okay to say that you’re scared, you know.”

          I looked over to her, but there was no response. She simply locked her expression into a blank, saying not another word until a faint light could be seen at the end of the tunnel. And, as we came closer, we could see Ulyana standing at the entrance, shining a flashlight at us.

* * *

 

          Strange how it had suddenly come to where I could look at Ulyana and feel perfectly safe.

 


	23. The Underground Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness falls, and the investigation into the two missing pioneers takes a rough dive into the tunnels below.

          By the time we emerged from the tunnels, the sun was setting. Shadows were quickly enveloping the old building and its heavily wooded surroundings. At best, we had an hour of good sunlight left.

          Alisa and I shared our findings with the others; Shurik and Ivan had checked out a nearby drainage outlet – an old, dried-out cesspool, more like – but had come up empty; Ulyana, while waiting to play a prank on me while I was searching the first floor had looked upstairs in the meantime, also finding nothing.

          In the end, it was our misadventure underground and the discovery of Miku’s shoe that provided any fuel to continue our rescue mission.

          “Did you find anything of Sveta’s?” asked Ivan, a shaking nervousness quite evident in his voice.

          I shook my head somberly. “Nothing here, but if that neckerchief we found on the way is hers, then it's likely that Miku is with her.”

          “So… they’re safe?”

          “No way of knowing that. That tunnel was insanely long.” I paused briefly, suppressing the urge to blurt out an obligatory _“Like my dick!”._ I was fairly certain that such humor wouldn’t be appreciated.

          Shurik nodded. “The bomb shelter….” His words trailed off as he went into a phase of deep thought; either that or he was experiencing the human equivalent of blue-screening. We all waited in anticipation for his sentence to continue; after a number of silent seconds, we began to look about awkwardly.

          “Right… what about the bomb shelter?” I prompted him.

          He shook the cobwebs from inside his head, operational again. “My apologies! Yes, there is a bomb shelter down there. They say it was from the days of the Cuban missile crisis; or, rather, that was the last time that it was utilized.”

          “Is there a lot to it?”

          “From what I have been told, it is little more than a small room at the end of a tunnel.”

          I stretched, checking my flashlight to make sure it worked. “Well, if that’s the case, we should all just go now. If it’s just one room, then they might be in there, waiting for us!”

          While the others seemed to agree, Shurik held up a hand, issuing an addendum. “There is more, actually.” His expression switched to determined and serious, as though he were really trying to think. So hard, in fact, that it was making him sweat more than the rest of us. “There are no maps of them, but factually there is a network of tunnels. I should know. I’ve seen them myself.”

          “When?” I asked. "What were they for?"

          “A year ago, to be exact. Many of them remain unexplored…”

          “Hey, I remember that!” Ulyana interrupted him, frowning. “You went crazy.”

          “C-crazy?” Shurik looked markedly surprised. “What makes you say that?”

          “I came down here to look for you, and you acted like you’d lost your brain!”

          “I… wha??” Shock spread across his face. “That…  that’s impossible. Surely you are telling a joke. That is… completely unscientific! Had such a thing occurred, I’d remember it!”

          Ulyana shook her head, for the first time in her life looking deadly serious. “I know what I saw!”

          “What made you come here all by yourself?” I asked.

          “Who do you think? Olga Dmitrievna!” Ulyana looked pointedly annoyed. “I came here with… with… you know.”

          “Hold on, let me guess: Lover-boy?”

          It seemed like just the mention of him took the wind out of her sails. She looked oddly to the side, as if caught in some sort of scandal. “…yeah. Anyway, we almost had our heads smashed in!”

          “I would never…” Shurik stumbled over his words. He was understandably at a loss, but just the same, a whopper that size didn’t seem like something Ulyana could come up with on the spot.

          “What about you? Why were you here?” I asked him.

          “What difference does it make?” Alisa interjected, not surprisingly losing her patience, although her statement was a little abrasive. “We’re losing sunlight, and now I’m starving. What are we doing?”

          I unceremoniously reached into the backpack of supplies and apathetically tossed a can of peaches to her. “You wanna camp, we can camp.”

          She tossed it back at me with significantly more force, frowning. “I don’t want that. If we’re going to look for them, let’s just do it already instead of standing here like we’re waiting for a bus.”

          Oddly enough, we were a stone’s throw from the old road, where I could easily visualize a pioneer boy being mowed down violently by a passing bus, as in Ulyana’s version of the “love affair gone wrong” story. “You have somewhere to be that I don’t know about?” I asked.

          She bitterly clenched her teeth. “Just make a plan already! If you’re going to do something, do it. All this stalling is driving me crazy.”

          “We’ve got a good idea of where they’ll be,” I reassured her, “So let’s just take a breather, call the others, then go in. It’s not like Miku and Svetlana are going to be leaving without us. That’s the plan.”

          “Fine.” She brusquely grabbed the can back from me and found a clear spot in the grass to sit down on. “At least it’s something.”

* * *

          The rest of us followed her example, and we took the time to stoke a small campfire in the yard. The orange and yellow flames were inviting despite the ever-present heat, and while the others traded idle chitchat, I took a few steps away to radio Slavya’s group.

          It took a couple of tries, but to my amazement the ancient radio actually did work. With Electronik listening on the other end, I relayed what we'd found.

          “We’re already back at camp.” His voice came through with an anemic crackle over the air. “Slavya is talking to Olga Dmitrievna right now. It’s going to be dark soon.”

          “Oh, I know.” I surreptitiously looked at the others, noting how Shurik looked more and more nervous as it got darker. Being the more logical leader of the robot club, I wouldn’t have figured him to have a fear of darkness. Then again it wasn’t something unbecoming of a super-nerd.

          Ivan was holding himself together remarkably well; he was seated near Alisa, who seemed more preoccupied with her canned peaches than him or anything else. While they exchanged idle banter from time to time, it didn’t seem like they’d become the next “Brangelina” anytime soon. At least, somewhere deep down, I was hoping not. Like hell was I going to admit to her face that I was enjoying being around her, even if we were squabbling half the time.

          Ulyana, being her usual bouncy self, was doing her best to tease me with wet string beans from another can that we’d opened. I tilted a brow but refused, even after she practically waved them in my face. She responded by throwing some randomly toward me from time to time, usually missing me by a country klick.

          “We’re going back in just as soon as possible,” I said flatly to the radio. “I want to get us all home already.”

          The signal whined momentarily, then returned with a different voice on the other end. It was hard to discern who it was at first. “Olga Dmitrienva isn’t going to let you explore those tunnels. If you get hurt, it could lead to an international incident. I really shouldn’t have to tell you that, but I am.”

          Only one person would tell me something so bossy; further, something so inherently right. I didn’t want to admit it. “Thanks, Zhenya. I’ll take that under advisement.”

          “What’s that supposed to mean?” The radio buzzed, crackling angrily to mimic her. “Are you actually going to consider it, or are you just going to ignore it as soon as we’re done?”

 _Dear God, does she really have to do this now?_ I thought. “I’ll consider it,” I replied, studying the shoe once more, noting how its owner had taken very good care of it in the past. I didn’t want to get my imagination going on what may have become of Miku. “Frankly, I blame myself a bit, for Miku’s sake.”

          “Why?” Zhenya sounded interested; I could practically see her normal look of amused, silent judgment from way over here.

          “I made a mistake. I knew she was scared out of her wits last night, and I had her leave the film. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting her go off alone into camp.”

          “Such a hard-head. You know that Miku can’t find her way out of the canteen sometimes, right?”

          It wasn’t really surprising to hear, but her statement rubbed me the wrong way. “That’s a tremendous help. Really.” I responded sarcastically.

          “In any case, Olga Dmitrievna’s not going to let you go, for exactly the reason I mentioned.” She sounded absolutely sure of that fact.

          I shook my head. The last thing any of us needed was bureaucratic nonsense. “It’s my responsibility. I’m taking it.”

          The radio was silent. So much, in fact, that I thought the batteries had given out. It suddenly crackled back to life, this time with Olga’s stern tone to greet me. “Brion, return to camp. I understand how you may feel guilty in this matter, but it isn’t necessary to take any further risk. You’ve done what you could.”

          I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “You want me to come back? But what about the others?”

          “They can manage well enough on their own. You can spend the rest of the night here, where it’s safe. It really is the best option. I’ll send Slavya out to take your place.”

          The idea of sending Slavya to explore the underground in my stead didn’t comfort me. Sure, she was the most responsible pioneer around, certainly capable. The fact that I’d be relaxing in my cabin while she’d be hunting in the dark tunnels with my motley crew was not something I wanted to accept.

          I looked back to my group. It seemed like they’d been listening in on my conversation, and were waiting for me to give the correct response.

          I’d been pulled out of solitary confinement, sent on this trip, and at the cusp of potential success or failure, I was being told to take a load off. Go with the easy choice.

          There was the possibility that Olga was completely right, and I didn’t have to worry myself about them. Then again, she could be just as wrong. Inside, a tiny voice inside me was screaming to not abandon anyone; not the girls, not my group.

          “Sorry,” I responded, anemically pushing the button. “I’ll sign any waiver you want when I bring everyone back.”

          “Brion!” Her voice practically exploded through the speaker. “It is not a request…”

          At that point, I shut the radio off. When it came to matters involving my so-called government in this time period and who I was _s_ _upposed_ to be, I couldn’t care less.

         I returned to the campfire, where Alisa was smirking at me. She seemed pleased, although it was likely due to my defiance and not because of my bravery. “You’re going to spend a night in the brig for that, you know.”

          I shrugged. “What can I say? You kids have grown on me.”

          Calling them "kids" earned varied scowls, along with a middle finger from the rebel -- I didn't even know if that was considered obscene in this country. Still, I deserved it. “So are we going now?” asked Ulyana.

          “Yeah, before Olga stomps all the way over here herself to get me. Let’s get going. Enough sitting around.”

          Alisa stood up, taking the time to brush bits of grass off of her backside. “Fine with me. Shurik, put the fire out, will you?”

          “No.”

          We all looked at him. He’d been quiet for quite some time, just staring into the flames. His sudden vocalization caught all of us off guard. “What?” I asked.

          “No.” He spoke again, his tone flat and robotic, as though stuck in a loop. Not a blink of the eye, not a movement except for his mouth. He was stuck.

          “Come on, it’s dark already!” Ulyana insisted, setting her can of beans aside and stretching.

          I extended a hand to him. “Come on, man. I’ll let you lead the way, if you want.”

          “No…” He repeated. “No… _No!”_

          “ _Aw_ , are you scared?” Ulyana teasingly asked with a jovial smile.

          He didn’t directly answer her. Instead he rocked to-and-fro as he shook, like he was really having problems. He was sweating profusely. It was becoming hard to watch him fall apart. This wasn’t Shurik – it was some strange creature that had taken on his form. He certainly wasn’t himself in that moment.

          “Shurik!” Ivan shook his friend’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

          At the feeling of being touched, Shurik jumped up, his pupils nearly pinpoints, expression turning to disbelief, lacking recognition of who he was seeing in front of him. “No… I never made it out, did I? You brought me back… you brought me _back!_ I’ve speculated all along, now I _know!”_

          Alisa looked alarmed and puzzled, “a deer in the headlights” being the best description. None of us knew what to do with someone who’d quite obviously popped a gasket.

          “I knew it! See? Told you!” Ulyana said, pointing. “He’s out of his head!”

          Reaching down and snatching a firebrand, Shurik backpedaled from us, swinging the flaming piece of wood wildly about as if to ward us off. His voice was loud, maniacal. “Stay away! You’re not taking me back! I won’t let you!”

          “What the hell?” I exclaimed, backing away from the shower of embers that trailed with Shurik’s wild motions. “Calm down, man!”

          There was no convincing him. In the light of the fire, his expression was far gone. Panic, fear, anger… all of these emotions could be seen in his face as he kept us at bay with his torch. “I won’t let you take me back! You won’t fool me again!”

          Alisa dropped the backpack, seeming to think that brute force was the best option. Arching herself forward, she lunged and attempted to tackle him – but he was too fast for her! He was somehow able to strong-arm her, and with a single hand at her neck, threw her backward, making her tumble along the lawn like a ragdoll.

          “Put it down!” I knew it had to be me to make the next move, but his other hand hadn’t let go of the torch, and as I came toward him he swung, making me think twice about getting burning timber in the face. He was swinging it about so wildly, it was a very real possibility.

          Ulyana had the right idea; her height made her a small, nearly unnoticeable target, and she managed to get behind him, wrapping herself around his waist and legs like a monkey climbing a tree. Now doing her best to compress around him in the world’s strongest bear-hug, it was enough to make him stumble and fall into the grass, effectively dropping his weapon.

          “Get him!” Alisa yelled. Not surprisingly, she was out for blood. She found her way to her feet, a murderous look on her face. It looked like she was going to start kicking him.

          “Hold him down!”

          Miraculously, Shurik managed to force his way out of Ulyana’s hug and took to his feet again. “Not going… not going back, you hear me?!?” His voice was ragged, like that of a psychopath. He scooped his torch back up and took off in a sprint around the building.

          “Stay with him! Don’t let him get away!” I shouted, taking off after him.

          Ahead of me, I could hear Shurik breathing in raspy, panicked gasps, as though I were something coming straight out of hell to apprehend him. “Stop running, you asshole!” I growled, doing my best to gain on him.

          “No!” he screamed back. “You won’t fool me anymore! I know all of your games!”

          From what I could tell, Shurik was trying to get back to camp. It probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea to just let him go; if he knew the way, he could walk it all by himself.

          “…won’t catch me… won’t catch me!!” He continued to ramble.

          I wished that he was right. If he’d simply slipped away, leaving me in his dust, that would have been the preferable outcome. Our eyes were not accustomed to the dark, especially not Shurik with his glasses. As we zigzagged in a convoluted route, neither of us could see the sinkhole that had lain open for some length of time.

          It was his sudden tripping movement downward that told me things were about to go very, very south. I skidded to a halt, but not soon enough to avoid falling on my ass, my feet and legs dangling into nothingness. A pitch-black hole stretched beyond my range of vision, a near vertical drop into the earth.

          With a blood-curdling scream, Shurik scratched for his life at the sides of the hole to slow himself down. It wasn’t enough, and before I knew it he’d disappeared from view, falling into the unknown.

          “No… damn it!” I pounded a first in the dirt, quickly realizing that I was on the verge of joining him. I wisely pushed myself back, standing up just in time to see Ulyana careening towards me at full speed. I practically caught her, barely stopping the both of us from taking a nasty fall.

          “Hey! Where’d he go?” the redhead latched on to me, peering around.

          “Careful!” I pushed her back slightly. “He fell!”

          Ivan and Alisa were not far behind us, carrying their flashlights. The rebel shined the light in my direction, teeth clenched. “Where is that _Durak_?” She focused on Ulyana and me. “What are you doing?”

          “Copping a feel!” Ulyana said with a proud grin.

          I pushed her away even more. “Yeah, right! He went down this hole.”

          We all gathered around, shining light into the crevice. It was roughly a meter or two wide, dropping down at least four meters to a concrete surface, where broken rebar could be spotted, opening a portal below.

          “You’ve got to be kidding.” My eyes bugged at what we were seeing. “More tunnels?”

          “He said they were extensive, didn’t he?” asked Ivan.

          “I wonder if they’re connected.” I began to hunt for ground that I could possibly skirt down – any way that I could get down there. “Shurik! Shurik, answer us!”

          There was no response from below. Alisa caught me by the wrist as I checked the sides of the hole. “Hey, hold on. Don’t.”

          “What? He could be dead in there! See how deep that is?”

          “I know!” She snapped. “You’re not going in, though!”

          “What makes you say that? Look, I know the risks. I don’t care! Since when did anyone around here give a crap about my safety, anyway? Especially you?”

          Her anger was palpable. Her face turned red and her voice got very low and punchy. “Moron! Those were all different times! If you fall in there, you’ll break something or die!”

          “Then what? We’re going to leave him?”

          She punched me in the shoulder. “No! We’re going back to the old camp. If we look in the tunnels  _that_ way, we’ll run into him! It’s safer.”

          It didn’t seem like Alisa to suggest doing things the safe way. She was always so brash; subtle as a sledgehammer. She was picking a weird time to start going soft.

          I chose to stay obstinate. “You remember a hole when we were down there? Know how long I chased you and found nothing but that shoe? We’ll find Shurik when, an hour from now? Two hours from now?”

          “Look out! Look out!” Ulyana and Ivan began shouting at us in near unison as we argued. They were on the other side of the hole, shining their lights inside; they were seeing something that we couldn’t.

          With a crackle and rumble, the soft soil under our feet was beginning to bend and crumble, coming apart like a cake in a television commercial. The difference: this wasn’t the promise of a delicious treat, but a direct threat to life and limb.

          Had I choice in the matter, I would have gone down a hero, selflessly pushing Alisa out of the way just seconds before taking the fall myself, valiantly facing my fate. Anybody would want the same. Better yet, to save us both would have been the ultimate outcome, along with a rescue helicopter equipped with a winch and a suitcase stuffed with one million rubles. Of course, as much as I’d been living in a world of the impossible, such an outcome was too extreme, even here.

          Sir Issac Newton’s plan called for just me to fall into the hole, as Alisa only needed to take a single step backward to save herself, which she did while forcefully grabbing my hand, yanking me toward her.

          If she’d done so only a second sooner, I would have been saved. The ground beneath me sank with a deep rumble, and as the sensation of free-fall overtook me, our fingers were wrenched apart from one another. All she could do was look on in shock as I began a short but painful journey downward.

          I made a hard first impact, landing on my back in the cascading forest soil. I did as Shurik had done, scraping about with both hands to slow myself down, but the dirt underneath me continued to slide, carrying me with it.

          As I picked up momentum I tumbled forward, receiving a mouthful of dirt before rolling uncontrollably. Moving at increasing speed, I let out a startled scream, hoping that the landing at the bottom wouldn’t be on my head.

          The bent rebar in the concrete’s opening was an unexpected blessing; I didn’t fall straight through, but was caught up in a position where I could try to save myself. My fingers latched onto rusty iron, and as I looked up, the lights held in the hands of my pioneer friends seemed blinding. I could hear them yelling to me, but the sound of earth moving and crumbling quickly drowned them out.

          Heavy chunks of soil piled around and on top of me. I realized that I wouldn’t have my vantage point for long; if I didn’t let go, I’d be buried alive. I was caught in yet another unwinnable situation, so I bit the bullet and let go, hoping that whatever power was running this world wouldn’t allow me to clock out just yet.

          I’d never wanted to know just how much it would hurt to hit solid concrete. Or worse, to hear myself do so.

          Luckily, I was somehow spared that. I landed hard on a pile of moist soil and hard chunks of debris, rolling down until I impacted a wall, bringing my journey to an end.

* * *

          My mind was briefly in a fog; must have blacked out. I could feel bumps and bruises forming on my arms and legs, but I was alive. My tongue was numb from where I’d bitten down on it during my fall.

          Coughing up dirt, I groaned and rolled onto my side, then to my back, looking up to where the hole should have been. I hoped to still see the lights, but was only greeted by pitch blackness. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face.

          I tried to stand, but I was unstable on my feet – likely from a concussion – and I fell right back down onto my ass.

_Okay. Stop, think… check yourself. Make sure you didn’t break anything._

          My arms and legs were painful to touch, but I was thankful to still be functional. There was a stinging on my right forearm. Touching it yielded something slightly sticky on my fingertips, as well as a stinging sensation that I hissed at. I’d cut myself, likely on the rebar.

          “Sh… Shurik?” My voice echoed in a familiar fashion. I was indeed back in a tunnel similar to the one I’d explored earlier. Of course, I had no clue where I was, or where I was going to go without light.

_Panic. No, don’t panic. Panic._

          My breath accelerated briefly as I began to realize just how bad the situation was turning out to be. I was trapped down here.

          I slapped my forehead – admittedly not a smart thing to do when you have onset of a concussion – and reached into my pocket, searching for… _Yes!_ A pack of matches that I’d used to light the campfire in front of the old building.

          While I cursed my luck that all of the useful gear was still above ground, I carefully pulled a match from the pack and struck it. Golden light greeted me as the match hissed to life.

          A tunnel, nearly an exact match to the others. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that the ground above had collapsed to completely seal the hole I’d fallen through. No one would be coming through without digging. That was both a good and bad thing: while nobody else would get hurt, there was no telling how long it would take for help to arrive.

          I surveyed the pile of rubble next. My thought was that perhaps Shurik had been buried under all of the fallen material, myself included. However, I wouldn’t be able to root through it; not while holding a match, which wasn’t doing much good for me in the first place. What I really needed was a flashlight, or perhaps a piece of wood that I could start on fire, like the torch he’d been carrying.

          Try as I might, there was no way I’d be finding a single piece of wood in here, and…

 _“Ow!”_ The match burned my fingertips, and I tossed it away. While my mind had been grinding, I’d run down my timer. I pulled another one out and struck it again…

          Quickly approaching footsteps forced me to wheel around…

_***WHAM!***_

          My eyes briefly registered Shurik’s face before I was knocked off my feet, dropping the match. I could hear demented breathing, I was pummeled by unguided but frantic strikes to my arms and torso. I felt a knee press down on my stomach.

          “Shu—rk… SHURIK!” I reached out, trying to grab whatever I could. I nearly caught his fists multiple times as he swung at me.

          “ _Nottagain, nottagain!”_ His words were joined together in a tweaked, animalistic manner, almost like he was playing a game. This asshole was enjoying himself! He evaded my defense and grabbed hold of my neck, proceeding to strangle me.

          I had to give him credit: in his madness, Shurik could do some damage, but neither of us could see one another. That meant that he couldn’t see my arms flailing about to find a small chunk of broken concrete, which I used to smash him in the side of the face with. Or, at least, where I thought his face was.

          The concrete exploded into much smaller pieces, and I was instantly relieved of the hands that were robbing me of breath. I heard him land next to me in the darkness and I skittered away, finding a solid wall to position myself against. I prepared to kick with all of my might if he tried coming at me again.

          I silenced my breathing then. Legitimately, I was terrified. I could feel my hands trembling. It had been an innate fear of mine since I was a kid to be attacked by something I couldn’t see, couldn’t defend against. Shurik was just an ordinary human being, to be sure, but there was no telling what could happen in his messed-up mental state.

          “Where are you?” His question wasn’t with a note of concern, but weighed in a predatory state. The fact that he was still conscious after all of that was surprising.

          I considered what could possibly happen if I answered him.  Could I try to reason with him? Bring him back to reality? He’d started off scared, and was obviously having some sort of episode in that regard. He was still one of us.

          “I will…” I could hear his footsteps. He’d managed to stand up, and was dragging his feet as he moved away from me. “I will find you… before you find me…”

          I stayed silent. Until I could ensure my safety, as well as actually see what was around me, it wouldn’t do any good to try and negotiate with him. If anything, being trapped in the darkness was what was driving him mad.

          With my joints aching and with Shurik continuing to ramble inanely in the dark, I crawled away on my hands and knees, using one hand to feel along the walls. Hoping I wouldn’t run into another hole in the floor, I stood after a while and walked blindly.

          It was a good while later before I felt that it was safe enough to strike another match. Shurik’s rambling had gone silent for some time, but I’d wanted to be sure that he was a good distance from me before I gave away my location.

          The tunnel looked similar to the others, except that these had heavy pipes running along the walls rather than electrical cabling and conduit. They had to be utilities infrastructure for the bomb shelter… maybe even _Sovyonok._ Perhaps I could follow them all the way back.

          Of course, if my book of matches were big enough I could test that theory, but that wasn’t going to happen; my supply was steadily dwindling. The best option was to navigate the labyrinth blindly, only using the matches when necessary.

          With a sigh, I continued forward, hoping that one of my earlier theories of this being a world created actively by a benevolent force would be correct, and I’d start having better luck. Being caught in a place like this, though, shattered that illusion for me. I could turn a corner and find a rose garden, if such a thing were true.

* * *

          Wandering in absolute darkness does strange things to the mind. Down here, sensory deprivation is a real thing.

          Without sight, the human brain ramps up the gain on the other senses. Of course, since there was not much more to listen to in the tunnels than the sounds of my own breath and steps on the concrete, everything seemed to be amplified. I began to expect another attack from a deranged Shurik; it wouldn’t have been hard for one of us to find the other.

          At least, that was what I thought until I came to some type of intersection. With my hands tracing along the walls, I felt the pipes move vertically, as well as empty space beginning to open up around me. I struck another match, seeing that the intersection was shaped like a cross, branching off in two other directions while also continuing on the same course I’d been on.

          The walls to the left and right had some markings on them that I could easily make out. To the right: a lightning bolt and “Утилита 2E” – Utility 2E. If that meant that it dealt with power, travel there could be promising. Getting the lights on in here, however briefly, would be a great benefit.

          To the left: An arrow pointing down to some type of bull's-eye figure. Perhaps it meant directions to the bomb shelter, but I couldn’t be certain. It certainly didn’t carry a comforting connotation.

          What I did know for certain: I was injured and lost, and going down could mean that I wouldn’t come back up.

          Continuing forward with no indicators provided meant that I could very well find more of nothing. If there really was a utility room, I could rest there for a bit, perhaps find tools, or better yet, a flashlight. Plus, I could try to raise someone on the radio; I’d been apprehensive about using it ever since the landing, not wanting to give myself away more than necessary. A crazy man still stalked the hallways.

          I carefully took the turn to the right, becoming immediately aware that this hallway was significantly narrower than others. I wasn’t worried about getting stuck, and wasn’t claustrophobic, but if Shurik caught up to me here, neither of us would have room to maneuver. We’d be forced to fight each other where either one of us could crack our heads open on a wall or a pipe.

          The trip wasn’t a short one. I lost track of time, following more pipes with my hands. It occurred to me that these tunnels could travel for literal kilometers; I’d heard of such things all over the internet, as well as movies. There was a very real possibility that neither I, Svetlana nor Miku would ever find each other in this massive labyrinth; an outcome I didn’t want at all, but couldn’t deny.

          Finally, at long last, I nearly collided with a door made of steel. Striking one more match, I could see the same markings on it as back at the intersection. A rusted bottom indicated flooding in the past. It was cracked slightly ajar, the darkness inside beckoning to me.

          I held my breath, then carefully pushed the door open, peering carefully inside as the door rumbled in protest on its hinges. I could immediately make out some sort of pump, roughly a meter tall. On one wall, a red rack that looked to hold flood apparatus; waders and gloves. Nearby, a fire extinguisher, a bucket…

          At first I couldn’t catch the detail, and was certain that I my eyes were playing tricks on me, but as I moved closer further into the room, I could see feet.

          Two feet, with knee socks and dark blue flats. I knelt, breath caught in the back of my throat as I slowly looked up, seeing two small hands folded over a flashlight in a lap clothed by an all too familiar blue skirt.

          Further up, I began to recognize the waifish build, pasty complexion and silvery-white hair of Svetlana, who appeared to be asleep.

          At least, she seemed that way before her eyes slowly opened, registering me blankly before my match burned out.


	24. The Mystery Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to my readers for such a long delay for this chapter. A number of real-life issues cropped up, requiring my attention elsewhere. Plus, the introduction of Yulya into this story was a difficult transition for me to write, as she has always been one of the most mysterious characters from the canon work, and admittedly the least explored, as she doesn't become known to the protagonist until very, very late. I had to do much brainstorming into just what role she would play here. This chapter still feels incomplete to me, but at least gives a good set-up. Next chapter should come along at the regular pace, perhaps sooner.
> 
> WARNING: Moderate Impending Cringe.

          My fingers shook as I fished for another match. Things had been going downhill for so long, I was excited to finally make some sort of breakthrough. However, the damned paper sticks just wouldn’t yield, so I fumbled with them in the darkness for several seconds. _Come on!_

          Without warning, I was blinded by a light in my eyes, and I instinctively raised a hand to shield myself. The light was coming from Svetlana’s lap; her flashlight! It worked!

          It was hard to see at first through the bulb’s glare, but I quickly beheld pure shock and terror in the girl’s purple eyes. She flattened herself against the wall, the hand with the flashlight trembling. “Who… are you?”

          Absolutely no recognition, not even with a light in my face. I remembered that she hadn’t been in camp to witness my sudden and drastic fashion statement. I likely looked like some crazed tunnel dweller with gaunt, hairless features.

          Outside of that, seeing anyone right in your face after spending so long in the dark would chill to the bone, no matter who you happened to be.

          She spouted her interrogative again, now twisting her body in crippling despair as she curled into a fetal position and began to issue blood-curdling screams.  I was frozen as she started to have a full-fledged panic attack. “What… are you… no! Don’t hurt me! Don’t…”

          Her cries were piercingly loud, particularly in this enclosed space. As remote as the possibility was, Shurik was still out there, and if her screams were to carry…

          What little hair was on my head stood on end as I heard a heavy stomping and shuffling outside the door. I turned quickly to look, my shadow an enormous void in the flashlight’s glow.

          A boot, a large, outstretched hand, and glasses with a cracked lens… With the door ajar, Shurik was coming right in! He’d found us!

          Fight or flight reflex… My brain and medulla ground together like a vehicle’s clutch, slamming into forward motion. _The only way out of Hell is through… Go!_

          I charged, putting all my weight into the door as I slammed it against Shurik, pinning him in the opening.

          He shoved back with some considerable force of his own and laughed maniacally. “I knew I would find you in the dark… _I_ am finding _you!_ ” His hand gripped the sleeve of my shirt, pulling it out of cuff and scraping my flesh with dirty fingernails.

          Despite my efforts, he was still able to squeeze further through the door. Fighting against me, we found ourselves face to face with one another. His features contrasted like a villain in a comic book; those scenes where the enemy would seem ten times larger than the protagonist.

          I hadn’t looked at anyone with such fear since I was five years old… I felt like Svetlana, terror being a thousand cold needles in my spine. Her continued screams from where she was certainly did nothing for my morale.

          “I’ve found the error!” Shurik said in a deranged gloat. “I’ll be the one to end it all!”

          I growled, digging my shoes into the floor with as much traction as I could muster. “ _Hrrrrgh!_ No, damn you! No!” I had only one goal: smash him with the door. Getting into another fight with him in such a space wouldn’t go over well.

          We fought back and forth for control of the door, and I was grateful for the little bits of Viola’s coaching – although I’d quickly let such things fall to the wayside. I was able to hold the door with one hand, allowing my free hand to wrap itself in the red neckerchief around Shurik’s neck.

          A couple of bunches, and my fist was quickly and firmly at his throat, choking him. This broke his resolve, allowing me to push him back through the opening.

          Not being able to see him clearly, I shoved his form back into the narrow tunnel with all of my might, then slammed the door shut, banging my hand over the door handle and its push-button lock.

          This was quickly followed by pounding and scratching at the door. The door handle rattled and shook….

          …And broke. I watched as the only thing keeping the lunatic at bay fell to pieces, the result of decades of neglect and rust in this dark place. Thankfully, the door still wouldn’t open.

          Not so thankfully, it looked like the door was now jammed shut. I was trapped by a madman in a dark room, next to a girl who was frozen in catatonic shock; she’d gone eerily quiet.

          “I will save the day, you hear me?!” Shurik kicked the door so hard, I thought it might come off its hinges. It was a noise that didn’t do my earlier concussion much good. The air filled with rusty dust that settled on my shoulders.

          I pounded my fist on the door in response. “Wake up, _debil!_ We’re your friends!”

          He stuck his fingers through the hole where the handle had been, where the latch still resided, then looked through with his cracked glasses. “It won’t happen again… I won’t let it!”

          I could barely make him out by the flashlight’s dim glow, but what could be seen was downright terrifying. His eyes were filled with a primal, depraved hunger. I couldn’t believe that this was the same guy who’d graciously offered me sanctuary during the thunderstorms; who’d also taught me the ins and outs of Russian obscenities. I was looking at the face of an animal. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I haven’t done a thing to you.”

          “Wrong! Wrong. Simply incorrect!” He cursed in frustration. “Do you really… think… you can make a fool out of me? After what I’ve seen…”

          His voice crackled, shifting from that of a predator to the weakened, tortured sniveling of a broken human being. “I’ve seen it, you understand? I see what you do.” He thumped at the door’s metal skin. “You always…. They always… they always find a way. It never ends…”

          He shook the mechanism, unsuccessful at breaking it free. “But… Never fear…” His voice took on an unsettlingly pleasant tone in a heartbeat. “I will find a way in. There are plenty of things to use around here… I will be praised as a hero when you’re finally stopped…”

          With that, I listened to the sound of his footsteps quickly heading off, back down the tunnel where they’d come from.

          I was fairly certain that even if he found some sort of tool to bust in, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back in the dark. At least, that’s what I hoped.

          The thought didn’t help to lower my heartbeat, though. Adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, and as I settled down onto the floor to take a brief rest, I could feel my entire body trembling.

          There was still the matter of waking Svetlana up… or whatever one does when someone is having a fit. I was certainly not familiar with that, and was even more wary of doing something that would make her worse, maybe even psychotic, like Shurik.

          I desperately wanted to rest, but it would have to wait. Svetlana was staring off into space like a forgotten doll, completely motionless. I carefully made my way over to examine her, tugging the flashlight out of her grasp with only the slightest resistance.

          Her uniform was tattered and dirty, which was expected. There was a bump on her elbow and a scrape on one knee. Nothing too serious. Dirty streaks under her eyes indicated that at one point she'd been crying.

          Beneath her white knee-socks, both ankles seemed to be swollen a great deal. It was the one glaring issue I could see, but… the idea of feeling her up didn’t seem appropriate.

          “Svetlana…” I looked at her face, at her eyes, which were making very small movements. She seemed to at least register my presence. “Sv… Sveta? Can you hear me? Can you let me know…?”

          Upon hearing her shortened name, her lips bent slowly upward in a warm smile. “Brother… you came for me…”

          “Not your brother.” I informed her cautiously. “He did come, though. He’s looking for you.”

          She ignored me, wrapping her hands around my wrist. “Brother came for me.” Her eyes were unblinking, unfocused…

          Svetlana seemed like an empty shell of her normal self, as though her body were still ticking, but her brain had gone for a stroll elsewhere. My mind began to race – How long would it take before I’d lose it down here, as well? By coming down into these catacombs, were we all destined to go mad?

          Pulling my hand toward her face, she made me caress her cheek in a way that made me uncomfortable. Sure, she and Ivan were closer to one another than normal siblings, but this was a bit much in my book. “Brother…” she continued, “I shared a womb with you for nine months, and yet I still can’t do without you.” She gushed, her pasty white cheeks turning a crimson red that could be noticed even in such low light. “Can you forgive me for abandoning you?”

          I didn’t want to play her game, but then… there was no telling what would happen if I didn’t at least try. I tried my best to affect Ivan’s vocal tone, putting my voice-acting skills to the test: boyish, a slight bit on the nasal side, with a hint of softness. “Sveta, you didn’t abandon me.”

          “I abandoned you.” She gave a self-affirmed nod, looking straight at me with a soulless gaze. “That is why you went with that vulgar girl from camp… because you’re a naughty, naughty boy… but she’ll never know you like I do, baby brother. Never, ever, ever…”

          If her words weren’t enough to make my skin crawl, she placed my hand over her heart – yeah, right where a brother had no business putting his paws – and took a deep breath, pressing my hand to the tender flesh beneath. A subtle _thmp-thmp – thmp-thmp_ could be felt. “It beats the same as yours, remember? It always has. I used to love listening to it… when we’d sleep together. Remember when we’d do that? You’d hold on to me so tightly…”

          “Sveta…” I carefully pulled my hand away, although she kept her grasp firmly around my wrist. “Brother… brother isn’t here. I need you to try and wake up, alright?”

          “Brother is _here_.” She insisted, pulling my hand back toward her. “Brother wants to sit with sister… like at home…”

          I shook my head. This surely couldn’t have been an easy journey where I found both girls and called it a day, recuperating back at camp. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was beginning to regret not taking Olga up on her offer.

          “Please, brother…” Svetlana urged, tugging at my wrist once more. “Just sit… you can rest your head in sister’s lap again, like the old days…”

          “Svetlana.” Were my perversion completely unadulterated, it would have been an inviting offer; but the charade had to end. This was getting into creepier territory than I wanted to know. “Please. I need you to wake up. I need you to look at me… I need the smart girl, the one who built the brain of a robot. I need to talk to her. Your brother is out looking for you. I’m here right now. Look at me. See who I am.”

          She was silent. My supplication had only a small effect, as she leaned back against the wall, moving her lips as though having a conversation that only she could hear. She closed her eyes, her grip on my wrist releasing.

          I waited for some time to see if she’d come back to cognition, but her slumber continued, and my patience waned.

          There was still the overlying question of what the hell either of us were going to do down here. On top of that, it was becoming inexplicably cold. I started to shiver as though winter had fallen.

          Impossible, of course; nobody around here could stop sweating for even a few minutes. The chill was from my earlier rush of adrenaline burning off. It had been a temporary distraction from pain as well; my bruises and cuts began to ache ferociously to go along with a horrible pounding in my skull.

          I clicked the flashlight off, preserving our only true lifeline, then settled against the same wall where Svetlana rested, deciding that I’d earned a break.

_Rest your eyes for now… and pray that when this girl wakes up, she’ll have her sanity back. Even some of her bitchiness would be tolerable._

          It sounded right; almost anything could sound right at that point. I closed my eyes, replacing darkness with darkness, and was soon pulled under.

* * *

          “Oh dear, this is the worst one yet.”

          A glade. I stood in a shaded, peaceful glade in the woods. _Our_ woods.

 _Our_ woods. Hadn’t used that phrase before. Was it really mine? Had I accepted this strange time and place as home?

          The sun was bright, but it could only be seen as an ethereal glow above the trees, peering in through magical shafts of brilliant light. The air was heavy, but fragrant with blooms of purples, reds, yellows and blues – like I’d walked into an impressionist landscape come to life.

          I wasn’t on the floor in that underground maze! In a dusty room…!

          Just as the thought crossed my mind, this beautiful visage of the woods rattled, creating a terrible ringing between my ears – a deathly crash that told me that this could all rattle apart. It was fighting to hold me under.

          “Very well.” I said aloud, steadying myself on my feet. To feel pain in a dream… such a cruel trick. Or was all of this simply a nightmare that I could control from time to time?

          A giggle from behind me. The same voice who, not ten seconds before, had spoken of “the worst one yet”.

          I turned to face a girl. At least, I thought whatever this was could be a girl. Slender, graceful, with long brunette hair that gleamed in the warm sun… a girl in sound.

          A girl that was oddly out of focus. Everything around us was alive in vivid color, but she was blurry, as though being viewed through a foggy shower door. My mind was quickly guided to a film I’d seen years ago, _“What Dreams May Come”,_ during which a very similar occurrence took place for the main character.

          As we regarded each other, she approached and went nose-to-nose with me, apparently not at all concerned about personal space. It was an odd greeting that I’d normally reserve for my cat.

          She then pulled away and spoke to me. “Are you alright?” Yes, definitely a girl. Definitely a voice I’d heard before.

          “You…”

 _“Hmn?”_ She seemed surprised that I actually spoke to her at all.

          “That was you… days ago, in the tent.” I continued.

          She reached out to me, tapping me gently on the nose before turning away, bringing her attention to a cluster of mushrooms that grew from the lush vegetation at our feet.

          “Some of these have not been doing so well. It’s such a shame to be unwanted from the start.” She plucked a couple, turning back toward me to present them. One mushroom looked blackened and wilted, like something that would grow on the shores of hell.

          The other was bright-colored and pristine in appearance. So pristine, in fact, that there was little to remark about; not that I was a botanist, but it looked to be the edible type commonly found in a grocery store.

          The girl handed the ugly mushroom to me, resting it in the open palm of my hand, waiting expectantly.

          "What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, staring at the odd and repulsive bit of flora.

          "Eat it." She said this as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "It's good."

          "Won't I get sick? What's wrong with the other one?" 

          She shook her head. "The other is poisonous. Just because it looks good, doesn't mean that it's good for you."

          Such a prophetic statement.

          For the time being, it didn’t appear that I’d be returning to the dark tunnel anytime soon, so I decided to indulge, taking on this bright new world with an open mind. I doubted that she would immediately try to poison me, either.

          The mushroom made a light, satisfying crunch between my teeth, nearly flavorless, a small hint of sweetness being the exception. The taste surely betrayed the awful appearance.

          “Hey, wait… this isn’t going to make me high, is it?” I asked, realizing that such a question would be better asked a few seconds earlier. I waited for the world to start spinning, or to hear colors or see sounds beyond comprehension… but there was nothing. Nothing fun.

          “Do you remember anything?” she asked.

          “About what?”

          “Anything, silly!” She giggled again.

          “About…” I stopped myself, realizing that we could go in circles like this for hours – hours I likely didn’t have. “Well, I remember you in the tent. That certainly was you, or somebody like you.”

          The figure produced a small tin – my small tin – of tooth powder. The very same one I had placed on the windowsill at my cabin. “This means that you’re getting closer.”

          “Closer? To what?”

          “Understanding.” Her voice was very quiet then. “Remembering. Don’t you? The first time? The second? Anything at all?”

          I had no idea what she was getting on about. I hated to have to tell her so, but what else was there? “All I remember is… waking up. You know… on that road in front of the camp. Before that…”

          The world shook again, the vibration not nearly as jarring as before, but even so, it made this girl figure slightly nervous. She grabbed my wrist with a blurry hand. “Don’t…”

          “You can hear that?” I asked, wincing. “It’s so painful.”

          She nodded. “Of course I can. It lets me know when you’re thinking of someplace else.”

          “It? What’s this ‘it’? What is all of…”

          She stopped me with a finger to my lips. “So many questions! Just… quiet. Listen.”

          I listened. There were the usual sounds of nature; birds, the gently flitter of leaves in the breeze, frogs… and a very faint tone behind it all, something akin to the tinnitus in my ears. It was high above the trees, presumably from the very same sun that I still couldn’t witness, save for the glow.

          “I suppose you can say that I made this. For you.” The girl crossed her hands.

          “Made this?” My eyes went wide with wonder. “Wait, you mean… the camp? Everything? Are you why I’m here?”

          She shook her head profusely. “Not the camp. Here. Right here, where we are, and where we’re going. I guess….” Stopping, she appeared to ruffle her hair in frustration, trying to find the correct words rather than being perturbed by my constant queries. “Just… here. I can show you.”

          With a sigh, she tugged at my arm, coaxing me to follow her deeper into the woods. The glade of brilliant colors and scents seemed to invite us both, extending quite a bit further.

          “Where are we going?” I asked, standing still for the moment. She may have seemed friendly, but this seemed like the setup for a number of very grim fairy tales.

          “You’ll see.” Her grip didn’t falter; full of determination, it would seem. “Maybe it will help you more.” She paused, apprehensive as she spoke further, her delicate fingers loosening briefly. “But I should ask, first, just in case: Will you come with me?”

          The words came from my mouth without much process. “Of course.”

          “No!” She sounded adamant. “Really, think about it. Only you can decide. Otherwise…”

          I’d been gone from my home, from my time… my world, even… for over a week. Progressively, I’d lost track of what once was – or, rather, my attachment to such things. Here, in these woods, in _Sovyonok_ … none of those things mattered. They couldn’t.

          Truly the only thing of any use from that world, with the exception of some random pocket junk, was what lay in my head. Memories, knowledge… they were all that really remained, and the value of even those things could vary.

          With such detachment, I found that even my natural human sense of preservation had taken a holiday, leaving me to brave this entire journey with no real sense of direction. No road map.

          Now in this fantastic glade that quite obviously was removed from even _Sovyono_ k, I was left simply with this girl. We were safe, in a manner of speaking. It seemed illogical not to at least entertain her.

          Besides, there was still a true constant, no matter where I stood: The question of how I was going to get home. And, failing that, where I would end up. The truly prudent choice was to do exactly what I was told and asked.

          “I will. Of course I will.”

          Happy with my answer, my blurry host tightened her grip around my wrist once more, and we took a walk.

          A shady, more peaceful part of the glade awaited us. In fact, the air felt oddly cold as we made our way through tall grass, a refreshing mist clinging to our skin. It felt as though autumn were just around the corner; there was a certain quality to the air that forecast a change of seasons.

          As we moved along, the smell of the woods became earthy and cleansing. It smelled very much like her, in fact. I remembered the scent distinctly from that night in the tent, when we had first met. It was fragrant, encompassing and rich, wooded. It reminded me of the inside of a guitar. One could almost get a high from such a thing after too long.

          The colors of the flowers became more vibrant, as well. Even in the shade, there was a varied palette of hues that awoke the senses. I was reminded of my time on the island, with Slavya… oddly enough, I was being led in a very similar manner, this girl pulling me along ever so gently.

          “May I ask you a question?”

          She looked over her shoulder to me. “Enjoy what you see, okay? It won’t be long.”

          “But…” I wanted to protest, but I knew that the simple act of thinking in this place could quite literally crash everything. I was certainly not in a hurry to be trapped in a dark room with a girl out of her mind again.

          “It won’t take long,” she reassured me.

          Somewhere nearby, the sound of lapping waves could be heard over the muted call of birds. I peered into the distance, observing a mist moving in amongst the trees. I had the distinct impression that we were being shrouded, the mist becoming an impenetrable boundary. Every direction I looked, even behind, the surrounding woods were disappearing.

 

          A clearing, appearing as an approximate dead-end was what awaited us. The trees had become so thick, it would be quite harrowing to even attempt to move around them on foot.

          However, the way back was gone. Looking once more over my shoulder, the path we’d followed had been replaced by thick foliage and trees that seemed to have popped up out of the path. There was no way out!

          “Don’t be scared. This is just for us. We’re safe here.” She turned around to me, squeezing my hand before letting it go, stepping forward into the clearing’s center, where the grass was nearly as tall as she was.

          I could see her face!

          Well, almost. She was no longer in color, but bathed in shadow. Her features had gained surprisingly clear definition. There was just enough light to see a set of amber eyes, a delicately crafted facial structure, a cute little button nose and sculpted lips fixed in an everlasting pout. She was very young, close to Ulyana’s age, were I to go by her height.

          However, other parts of her – parts that she immediately noticed me looking at and covered herself accordingly – suggested that she was simply a petite young woman. Her clothing was a body-hugging dress of a sort, almost resembling a swimsuit, the bottom part flaring out into a worn and torn skirt, likely the only piece of clothing she had. After all, would a mystical creature really have an extensive wardrobe?

          Her hair went down past her shoulders – dark, tumbling locks with a single braid to ornament…

          …and on top of her head, appearing amidst her rather human hair: a matching pair of ears that articulated fluently, standing tall as she looked expectantly at my face. I wasn’t expecting that.

          Then again, what was I expecting, anyhow? Another pioneer girl? I’d walked into the shining, iridescent cover of my Language Arts book from grade school – which I’d once loved to simply stare at and get lost in the fantasy world contained in that single image. This girl was vastly different, a fantasy character to contrast the beautiful but orderly world that had been brought to me in the form of _Sovyonok_.

          The appearance of a tail that curiously traced along her own shoulder made me check my own body for a brief moment or two. “There _was_ something with that mushroom, wasn’t there?” I asked.

          She giggled, the same giggle that had tickled my ears so skillfully days before. “Why say that?”

          I approached her, standing less than a meter away. Even at this distance, she remained drained of color, save for the amber color of her eyes. Her ears twisted this way and that. “Are… you a cat?” I asked.

          “A cat?” She looked honestly confused, scratching her own head with delicate, human fingers. No paws or pads here. “Is that…? Well, no… maybe yes. I suppose you could say there are some things about me…”

          I carefully reached out, stopping as her eyes focused sharply on my hand. Her reflexes were very swift, surely leaning toward feline. “May I?”

          “May you…?” She looked at me curiously, but didn’t seem afraid.

          I extended my arm and rested my hand on top of her head, between her ears, which folded down briefly. I gave her head a gentle pat and stroke, to which she seemed to respond favorably. I was hoping she would start purring; she didn’t, but she did smile warmly, closing her eyes.

          “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I took my hand back now.

          “You didn’t have to stop.” She mentioned with a shy smile, looking bashfully away. “I don’t get touched very often.”

          My mind wanted to go off on a rabbit trail with her statement, but in this place, she’d likely know exactly that… and I still needed answers. Fun could come later.

          I cleared my throat. “So… now that we’re alone… can you tell me what any of this is? Why I’m here at all?”

          “Here? I brought you here, silly. Didn’t I say that already?” She replied.

          “I don’t mean here. But you know where. The camp. You know I don’t belong there, right?”

          At the mention of such a place, I waited for the world to fall in on itself yet again, but nothing happened. Just as she had said, we really were safe to converse, or… whatever this was supposed to be.

          She looked me straight in the eyes, responding with frailness that made my hairs prickle slightly. “Are you sure about that? You do so well.”

          “Well enough to nearly kill myself falling into a hole, it would seem.”

          With a playful laugh, she went nose-to-nose with me again. It was no less odd than before; she was extremely cute for being a completely surreal creature. Had she been in my face any longer, a kiss would have been more appropriate.

          She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. “So many things have changed from the last turn of seasons. I experienced my first real winter… the colors of the leaves, falling down, the land falling asleep. And… you! You arrived. It’s been fun to watch just how different things are now… and yet the same.”

          Her words were abruptly caught as she looked into my eyes. Something seemed to change then – her expression seemed sad. “I guess this means that I really won’t see him again. Maybe it’s better that way.”

          “Who are you talking about?”

          “Another. Much like you.” She looked up at me with a touch of despair. “I had a feeling that things would end after that one time… a part of me wishes that it would have come around again. He wouldn’t have… made it. I suppose… that makes me bad to wish it so?”

          It had taken a while, but with her testimony I was starting to put the pieces of a long, complicated puzzle together. “This other one... you mean… Semyon, right?”

          The name seemed to echo now, my words like a chant in the woods, cries of hundreds of gecko lizards in the night. It made the both of us tremble.

          “That name…” I noticed how she began to fade into a sepia tone, our surroundings seeming to turn slightly grayer. “And what he called me. Y… Yulya. That’s it… I had that name in my memory for so long. Then one night I went to sleep and I lost all of those things. It became cold, the snow began to fall…”

          She seemed a bit lost after that, as though memories were flying back to her. I carefully reached out to her shoulder, attempting to get some type of response, but much like Svetlana back in that dark room, she didn’t react.

_Great. Broke another girl._

          I sighed, looking fleetingly about the continually graying landscape. It was so beautiful when we’d arrived, but now it seemed uninviting. Cold. Stale. Still, if I could stay right in this spot, lay down, go to sleep… anything to keep from being back in that desolate, dark room again, I’d be intensely happy.

          It was a wish that would not be granted. As though gravity itself was gradually lessening its hold on me, I could feel myself coming back to consciousness. The aches and pains from my fall and all of my fighting were manifesting. Eventually I’d be back in my predicament, abandoning a fantastic dream within a dream.

          I’d only been with her for mere minutes, and now I was frantic as I looked to this girl with cat’s ears… Yulya. I put my hands on both of her bare shoulders now. “Yulya… I must know more. Please. Can you keep me here?”

          Coming briefly out of her reverie, she gave me the sweetest look, smiling. “I will see you again…?”

          I wanted to shout. Something, anything…  magic words that would cement me right where I was. I didn’t care at that moment if I’d be abandoning the very people I was trying to save by going into those tunnels.

          Yulya was turning a dark, nearly burnt color, like dried leaves at the end of autumn. Around us, the woods were now turning grainy, washed-out. “My name is…”

          She spoke my name. She sounded like she was speaking to me through a very bad phone line, thousands – more like millions – of kilometers away, but I could tell what word escaped from her tender lips.

          Her smile, like the Cheshire Cat from Alice, became all that remained as she turned back into a blur, as before. Her figure turned less and less opaque with every passing second.

          My head began to pound again. The concussion… hell, it was likely the cause of this delusion. I was having a dream brought on by some sort of blood clot in my skull. Probably.

          “I’ll see you…” Her final words were nearly inaudible as something delicate brushed my cheek, like fingertips. They were gone within moments.

          The woods faded to white, then to gray. I could breathe, still take in fresh air. At least, until the rusty, heavy air of the tunnels came flooding back to me.

_“Don’t let me wake up. Not now.”_

          I could hear footsteps. They were heavy, imposing, and purposeful. Coming from behind me. They were accompanied by a voice that I did not recognize, but I heard a smile with them. Not a smile of felicity or hospitality. “I can arrange that for you.”

          _Malice._ The word seemed to appear in front of my eyes, like a caption.

          And then it was over. I didn’t have enough time to investigate, to find out who this new person was, my supposed enemy in the world of dreams.


	25. The Underground Pt. 2 - Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend listening to "Sunny Day" while reading this chapter. ;-)
> 
> I aim to have a follow-up soon, as my writing schedule has fallen behind, but this chapter was hard to end where it did. Already working on it.

          Dust. I could taste it in my mouth, feel it tickling my nose.

          So starkly, my adventure into dreamland had pulled me out of the stuffy, stagnant environment that trapped at least three of us underground.

          Now I was back, a tugging at my shirt sleeve pulling me from my nap. The transition was nearly suffocating. I wanted to find out more. I wanted to know just who had spoken to me at the very end, in such a sinister, cold tone…

          A choked, fragile sobbing came from the darkness directly ahead of me.

          Indistinct words… that telephone call from across the world was at it again, garbled like Joel’s fragmented memories in _Eternal Sunshine_. It was hard to make sense of any of the sounds.

          I shook my head, causing my brain to shift a bit. The words began to clear, albeit very slowly. “…пожалуйста. _Pozhaluysa, prosnis’…_ I don’t want to be left down here alone again…”

          Svetlana. It sounded like she’d come out of whatever spell she’d been under. At least, I hoped so; any more of that weird “brother” stuff and we’d be having problems.

          Coming out of my own spell, I reached up and carefully took hold of her delicate wrist, putting a stop to her insistent prodding. My other hand was still on the flashlight I’d taken from her. I switched it on and carefully pointed it toward her.

          Crawling on her hands and knees, the more feminine albino twin stared me straight in the face, no longer wearing the vacant, glazed-over expression that she’d had upon my discovery of her. There was concern, fear… and just a touch of consternation in her gaze.

          Indeed, she was more or less her normal self. As I shined the light between us, she conducted an inquiry of her own, curling her lip upward. “Brion? Is that… it’s you, right?”

          I coughed, pointing the light more toward myself to show her that I was, indeed, me. “Yes.”

          Embarrassed, she quickly brushed tears away from her eyes. “W-what happened to your hair?”

          I let out a sigh, followed by another cough. “Long story. Not really important.”

          She leaned back, resting herself on her haunches. A miniscule wince and moan of pain issued forth from her. “How… how did you find me?”

          “Luck, I guess.”

          Grunting, I rose from the floor and did a small check of myself, seeing just how badly I’d been injured from my earlier fall, as well as the scuffles with Shurik. A stinging sensation came from my right forearm, just below my elbow: three jagged scratches in my flesh. He’d gotten me fairly well in his attack.

          Beside all that, my arms and legs were all functional. I had to take care in keeping my balance; I was still suffering from a mild concussion.

          Svetlana continued to wait for my answer, looking blankly up at me as though still trying to get her brain back into working order. “I came here with a group.” I continued. “Things took a rough turn, though. That’s why it’s just me. Again, long story.”

          The girl looked away in bitter regret, a single sob rattling her body. “I’ve caused so much trouble for everybody. You… should just leave me to die down here.”

          “Don’t talk like that. There’s no point in it.” I told her with a roll of the eyes.

          “I mean it.” She settled down onto her butt, hanging her head melodramatically, her white hair obscuring her face. “Just leave me here. Nobody likes me, anyway. They won’t miss me.”

          “Stop.”

          “That girl Alisa wants to hurt me. She’s right to. Electronik, that rude girl Ulyana… she can have him. Just let me die in here. It will happen before long.”

          To add to her request, her stomach rumbled so bitterly, it was likely heard back at camp. She hadn’t eaten in almost an entire day.

          “You know I can’t let that happen. There’s a way out of here.” I assured her.

          “How do you know?”

          “Because there was a way in.” I sighed, chuckling at my morbidity. “Come on, Sveta. Cheer up. You’re not going to die, nor am I going to let you.”

          She sniffled, pressing her forehead to her knees. I glanced at her ankles, seeing that they were both swollen a great deal as before.

          “May I at least look at you?” I asked. “Are you hurt?”

          Tentatively she nodded, sweeping her hair back out of her eyes. “I can’t walk anymore. It hurts so much.”

          Steadying myself, I knelt down next to her. One of her ankles looked almost twice its normal size. The other, not as bad, but still warranted a look.

          “Can you roll those down for me?”

          She looked at me with notable concern, as such a question did sound a little suspect. However, we both knew that modesty would have to take a break at the moment. She obligingly coaxed her white knee-socks down and off, revealing blindly pale calves to me.

          Her left ankle – the worst one – was swollen and purple. It reminded me of when I was twelve or thirteen; I’d dropped a heavy wooden board on top of my foot while working outside. Along with intense pain, my instep had swelled until my foot looked like a snake that had swallowed an egg.

          Svetlana’s case was very similar, with the exception of the intense bruising and discoloration. Thankfully, I didn’t see any bones protruding from her skin, but even from my limited medical knowledge I knew that she could still have a fracture. Moving her around was going to be a problem.

          I hissed through my teeth as I looked closer at the bulging of her skin. I carefully placed a hand over her ankle, hoping to gauge her pain. “Ouch… so sorry. Can you move it at all?”

          She slowly flexed her foot back and forth, alleviating some of my concern that she may have broken her ankle. It was a major sprain, at the least. Fixable, hopefully. With every movement, she clenched her teeth and winced.

          “How’d this happen?” I asked.

          With another sniffle, Svetlana relayed her story. “I was foolish. Again, so foolish… After what happened at the film, I ventured here; I’d heard that there were components to be salvaged from the bomb shelter. Components that could solve the problems with the robot.”

          “Trying to win favor with Alexandyr, right?”

          She ignored my quip, but her purple eyes did stare coldly at me from under her impeccably trimmed bangs. “I also knew I’d be safe from that Dvachevskaya girl here. It seemed to be a good plan, but then I ran into that girl who doesn’t stop talking. Miku.”

          Indeed, Miku was still a piece of this crazy puzzle. I began to wonder how somebody like her could survive in a place like this – if she’d made it this far, anyhow. “Go on.”

          “Against my protests, she insisted on coming with me.” She continued. “I figured that we could bring back more items with two sets of hands.”

          Her words made me chuckle. “And it all fell to shit. Nobody ever plans to be gone longer than expected.”

          She nodded faintly as I stepped slowly past her, shining the light around the room. As indicated, this was some sort of utility room. Dormant electrical panels were on one wall, while directly next to them was some sort of pump, connected to piping that ran to the ceiling and across the walls, leading presumably out and to parts unknown.

          She continued her story. “So… we walked here through the woods. Of course, we got lost, as neither of us really knew how to get here without help. Then the rain came… and before long it was coming down in buckets! It was unbelievable. We were practically swimming. We panicked, started to run… and then I fell. There was a hole...”

          I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

          She eyed me curiously, but continued her account. “I fell down and hurt myself. Miku was… she was supposed to run back to camp to get help, but she never returned for me.”

          I thought back to Zhenya’s earlier statement, about Miku’s horrible sense of direction. If the shoe we’d found was an indicator, she certainly had gone the wrong way, arriving at the old camp and the bomb shelter rather than returning to Sovyonok.

          Inspecting the room further, I set my eyes upon a rusty red toolbox. I made my way over to it and flipped the lid open, going through its contents. “How’d you find your way here, to this room?” I asked.

          “I hadn’t much else to do. There was rain falling where I was, and I had the flashlight, so I wandered…” Her voice trailed off. “It seemed safer in here than out in the tunnels. I felt that I would be easier to find.”

          The box contained mostly rusted old tools; wrenches, a tack hammer, a spool of tape that had lost all of its glue…

          Hidden not so conspicuously at the bottom were the apparent remains of a couple of magazines. In the flashlight’s beam, I tried to make out the content: women. Lots of women in poses, in clothing that may have been fashionable decades before…

          I’ll be damned if I hadn’t found some poor old worker’s porno stash. It was relatively tame, like the lingerie sections of the old Sears catalogs, but still… there couldn’t have been any other reason for such material down here.

          The paper itself was damaged by water, making the magazines almost as stiff as cardboard. They would still serve the purpose I had in mind, so I brought them over to Svetlana and began to bunch them up, doing my best to fashion a MacGuyver-style cast against her ankle.

          I used my neckerchief and one of her socks to bind the makeshift brace, doing my best to make it tight without hurting her further. All the while, she watched me with a guarded expression, biting tentatively at her lip. “Are… you a doctor?” She asked.

          I shook my head. “I do a lot of reading. Back when I was a teen – younger, I mean – I read a book about first aid. Just for light reading.”

          “That is your light reading?” I couldn’t blame her for being slightly suspicious. I was a bit of an odd bird in my younger days. I read practically anything I could get my hands on.

          “There was a section about sprains and broken bones. Never thought I’d put any of that knowledge to use.”

          It was far from elegant, but in the end I was able to craft a decent brace: She couldn’t move her foot unless she tried. I was still apprehensive about her putting weight on it. I’d have to help her hobble around, provided that we ever escaped the room.

          I began to work on her other side. “This one’s not so bad. Your left… could be broken. We have to be careful.” I informed her.

          She nodded slowly, watching me work. I allowed her to hold the flashlight while I concentrated on the task. Every once in a while, I would take a quick glance at her. She seemed rather at ease and trusting; not something I’d ever expect from her.

          “A-anyway…” I said, keeping the conversation moving. “What do you mean by ‘safe’?”

          “Hm?”

          “You said it wasn’t safe out in the tunnels.”

          She shook her head. “I-I didn’t say that. But… don’t you feel like something is wrong? Almost as though we’re being watched?”

          The very idea gave me goosebumps. It wasn’t an idea I wanted to entertain, but she was right. “Something like that. But how? And by whom?”

          There wasn’t an immediate answer. I noticed her fingers bunching up nervously, fiddling with the pleats in her skirt. “I could have sworn that somebody else was out there.”

          I felt it a good time to relay what had happened to Shurik. While this likely was a dormant system of tunnels – ones that didn’t contain some tunnel creature that was preparing to twist our heads off and rip out our eyes – he was a definite threat.

          She took the news fairly quietly, then nodded. “It sounds like he is experiencing the same shock as soldiers who have been through war.”

          “Right, but… he’s not a soldier. And I always thought he was the most level-headed of you lot.”

          Svetlana exhaled quickly; a laugh. “You dont know him.”

          I shook my head, smiling grimly. “Obviously not. So what can we do?”

          She shrugged. “What can be done in here? We leave and hope somebody else can handle him. There is no telling what he might do in his state.”

          I nodded. The girl wasn’t going to be much help in a fight, that was for sure. We still had next to no supplies, no direction…

          But we did have the radio. I had refrained from even trying it, but now was likely a better time than any. The device was still attached to my shoulder, and I prayed that it still worked after the nasty fall.

          After completing my handwork on her ankle, I turned the radio on and attempted a call. “Hello? Anyone out there? Olga Dmitrievna, Electronik… anyone. Please answer.”

          There was light static on the other side. Nothing. Just as expected. I tried again, then a third time.

          On the fourth try, a sound erupted from the radio, a sound that neither of us were expecting. It chilled me to the bone, made Svetlana’s hair puff like that of a cat. It was a shriek of intense, inhuman agony, overpowering the speaker into a distorted crackle. I was startled enough to drop the device, backpedaling away.

          After several seconds of this sound, the radio crashed back to static.

          “What… what was that?” Svetlana asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

          I looked quickly about the room, confirming that we really were, for lack of a better term, safe in here. Being stuck was one thing; at that very moment I was worried that we would soon be under attack. In this case, from something even worse than a crazy Shurik. This room could very well turn into a trap.

          Except for a vent grating above – too small to even think of about climbing through – we were still very much alone. The thought brought little comfort.

          I picked the radio up once more, eyeing it cautiously. I pressed the button to talk, wondering just what to say to whatever or whoever had just antagonized us.

          Words failed me, however. Just what would anyone say in that situation? Ask if they’d like fries with that?

          I let go of the button, then turned the radio off and shouldered it, looking to Svetlana. “Alright… I’m not sure what that was, but we should look to get moving.”

          She looked at me incredulously. I’ll admit: what had come out of my mouth certainly didn’t sound intelligent. “You… have you gone mad?” she queried.

          “No. Not yet, anyhow. The longer we stay here, though… the least likely we are to make it out. Sorry, but I’m working off survival instinct right now… moving’s the best option.”

          “But… but why? Can’t we just stay here?” She pulled her knees up against her chest, still looking visibly in pain. “We are safe in here, aren’t we? Surely, we must be. The door won’t open.”

          I thought about it. The door was strong, as proven earlier. However, there was no telling if the latch would continue to hold if somebody really wanted in.

          On top of that, I knew enough about radio waves – enough to know that underground as we were, the signal had to be close or practically on top of us. I shuddered with the unshakeable feeling that we were sitting ducks where we were. It didn’t feel right, and I certainly didn’t want to put any of that into her head.

          I finally gathered my wits and came back to her side. “We don’t know where ‘here’ is, Sveta. We could be stuck in this room for a very, very long time. And with the others out there looking for us, I’d rather meet them than make them go through this place... hurting themselves, possibly. It’s possible that they might never find this room.”

          “Don’t say that.” She looked to be on the verge of nervous tears. Our situation was grave, no matter how we looked at it. Another bitter growl from her stomach forced her to do some mental deduction. “But… maybe…” She began, then gulped, pursing her cracked lips. “I will do my best, but I don’t know if I will keep up.”

          I stood, brushing myself off before extending a hand to her. “Just take it easy. Put your arm around me. Don’t be afraid. You can hold on to me as much as you need.”

          With my instructions, I helped the girl onto her feet. She was unstable at first, definitely in pain, but after a couple of tries was able to balance herself.  As much as she could use my help, I could tell that she was very stubborn; she was trying to stand on her own, but that wasn’t working very well.

          “Alright… now comes the part of breaking out of here.” I looked toward the toolbox that I’d rummaged through earlier, recalling the hammer. It was small, useful for few things… but was the only chance we had at getting the door open. It was at least worth a try.

          “Wait…” She shifted against me uncomfortably, trying to steady herself. “Look.”

          She shined the flashlight at the electrical boxes on the walls. I’d disregarded them earlier, figuring that nothing in this place could possibly be working after all this time. “Yeah?”

          Using her limited body weight, she coaxed me toward them, motioning with her head. “Look closer. At that.”

          I looked at what she was talking about – she pointed her light at the pump I’d seen as well. It was bulky, squat in appearance, painted red, several gauges affixed to its body. Rusted to all hell… I honestly didn’t have a clue as to what it did.

          “You got me. What is it?” I asked.

          She sighed. “A generator. Fueled by petrol. See the motor? And the tank…?”

          It made sense. After all, these tunnels were likely meant to service the bomb shelter, or something much more complex. Machinery could be expected. “Could it still work?”

          “Of course! Well… maybe.”

          I was pulled over in its direction, and after a brief inspection, I found a pull-cord. Starting the generator would be like starting a weed-eater.

          “Alright.” I helped her to lean against the wall. “Let’s give it a go… got nothing to lose, right?”

          Positioning herself close to the generator, she turned a few knobs, obviously knowing a bit more about things like this. The hiss of air could be heard as she worked away.

          “Go ahead.” She finally told me, satisfied with her adjustments.

          At first, nothing happened.  As I pulled, it didn’t even seem like the cord was catching anything. Then, as though something frozen had fallen back into place, a hollow metallic clang could be heard as the cord resisted me and retracted. I gave it a second tug.

          The old generator grinded hollowly, obviously far from running condition. Still…

          Reminded of my times winding up the dynamo in the lab, I summoned some strength in my aching bones and pulled the cord repeatedly, grunting more loudly with each attempt.

          Sometimes, non-committal noises really affect inanimate objects; the motor sputtered, shrieked, and finally kicked to life, making an ungodly amount of noise from bad bearings and an unstable supply of fuel. The exhaust pipes running to the ceiling rattled and popped.

          There was no telling how long it would really run, but there was a silver lining to all of this: the lights in the room came to life! With each anemic pulse of the motor, they brightened and dimmed, like every movie involving an underground mine or tunnel system – go figure.

          “You’re a genius!” I nearly had to shout over the noise. I couldn’t help smiling at this development. “Seriously. I could hug you!”

          Svetlana stared at me blankly, likely not hearing much of what I said. Even so, she buried her chin in her neck, avoiding eye contact as her cheeks seemed to darken.

          Now that we weren’t in complete darkness, it was much easier to make sense of our surroundings. Some things – such as a hefty length of pipe in the far corner – would have easily been missed had we only used the flashlight. Now we had a weapon, or possibly something to use as a lever.

          Leaving Svetlana to lean against the wall, I went back to the toolbox, taking the hammer and one of the rusty wrenches with me. Both would work toward freeing us from this room.

          Using the wrench as a makeshift punch, it didn’t take long to dispatch the door’s broken latch. A few solid blows with the tack hammer rendered the broken mechanism into scrap metal. The assembly fell apart with a clatter, and the door slowly opened with a low groan.

          Cautiously, I dropped the tools and took up the length of pipe, taking a look through the open portal. With the lights wavering, a tunnel that was barely tall enough for either of us awaited. It obviously hadn’t been built with comfort or convenience in mind.

          No sign of anyone, which was the good news. I went back over to her, yelling over the noise of the generator. “It’s time to go!”

          Nodding weakly, she handed the flashlight over and set her other hand on the pipe, pulling it from my hands.

          “What?” I asked.

          She attempted to use the pipe as a type of cane. It didn’t work – she fell back against the wall with her first and second tries, waving me off. “Let me try.”

          “Come on. You know you won’t get far.”

          Another attempt, and another… eventually she fell practically into my arms. I had to hold her up in a strange embrace, trying not to drop the flashlight. “Don’t.” I had to speak into her ear. “It’s not going to work.”

          She pouted again, then nodded. “I want to try. I don’t want to be a burden.”

          I eyed her with a slight bit of concern. “It’s not the time, Sveta. You’re hurt. You can barely walk. I’m not going to think any less of you, even if I have to carry you. You keep this up and… yeah, disaster. Remember the robot?”

          Thinking back on the ill-fated experiment in the lab, she quickly caught my drift. She’d been so focused on making her experiment work that, even in the face of imminent failure, she’d nearly destroyed the place. All of that effort, and even her friends and brother could have been reduced to ashes.

          Down in these catacombs, with no direction or clue to how we’d get back up to the surface, there simply wasn’t room for error, especially with her condition. She sniffled, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, as though holding back tears.

          “Here. You can hold the light, alright?” I moved in and put my arm around her as I’d suggested earlier, positioning the both of us so we could both walk. “We’ll work together. _We’ll_ make it out.”

          With a weak nod and a sideways glance, she held on to me more tightly, exchanging the pipe for our light source.

* * *

 

          It was slow going, heading back to the junction we’d both presumably taken before. Having originally seen only little bits of the tunnels by matches, it was an even bigger trip into the unknown to see them with actual lighting.

          Back in its day, it looked to have been quite the setup for what would have been underground quarters for nuclear strike survivors. Pipes, valves and wiring ran all along the walls and ceilings, accompanied by little bits of trash on the floor and plenty of rust.

          At times, support beams, rods and pipes weren’t even a meter above our heads. There didn’t seem to be much in the line of uniformity – not in the utilities access, anyway. Nor did any of it seem built for human comfort. Such a place was nightmare fuel for any claustrophobe.

          Movies and TV shows tend to lie: it’s impossible for tunnels and labyrinths to look exactly the same throughout. Even if such places existed, there was always the start and finish – the A to B principle. It was the journey in between, the uncertainty of whether you’d make it to the end without getting turned around or completely sidetracked that was the danger.

          After a while, we did eventually end up at the crossroads. The painted markings on the walls were beacons for whatever fate we’d have.

          “How you holding up?” I asked, thankful that we could speak quietly again. The noise from the generator was just barely audible from the hallway behind us.

          She shifted uncomfortably, doing her best to keep her arm around me as I did with her. Studying the markings, she was trying her brain occupied. “I'm alright.”

          “Sure? We could rest a bit if…”

          “I’m fine.” she insisted. Yet with the shaking in her arm, it was clear that a lack of food, water and comfort was taking its toll on her.

          “Sit.” I decided that with her, I should adopt a firmer hand to deal with her stubbornness. It didn’t take much to prop her up against the wall and force her to sit down like some sort of mannequin.

          “Hey, I didn't say…”

          I cut her off, squatting down. My head pounded a bit; I was still in rough shape myself. “We need to think things through. We can’t afford another mistake.”

          Her brain had a hard time clamping down on my words, but she did nod curtly after a few seconds. “Where should we go now?”

          “Exactly. I’m thinking the shelter. That’s likely where everyone will look for us, right?”

          “But… I don’t know where that is. I know as much as you.”

          Studying the markings on the walls, I cast the occasional glance in each direction, making sure that we weren’t being snuck up on. Having the light was just as much of a danger to us as it was a luxury. I gripped the pipe in both hands, doing my best to look formidable to any would-be attacker.

          I pointed to the symbol that looked like a bullseye, an arrow pointing down. It was a strange way to illustrate bomb shelter, and yet seemed fairly accurate.

          “I don’t know. Maybe.” Svetlana held her arms around herself as another loud growl emitted from her stomach.

          “There’s also straight forward… and of course, back toward the collapse…” My voice trailed off. I desperately wished for some sense of direction.

          She pointed at the bullseye. “We'll go. It’s more… certain…”

          With a nod, I helped her to stand once more. I didn’t want to waste any more time standing where we were.

* * *

          The bullseye path was yet another maintenance access, making it difficult for us to travel the way that we were. Unlike the other, however, it didn’t go straight; there were a number of turns, parts with little sections of stairs heading down that made movement hell for both of us.

          Even so, I was impressed to see Svetlana doing her absolute best to stay attached to me, obviously determined to make it through all of this. She’d abandoned her earlier notion of being left here to die. Certainly not today… that was a pledge I made silently.

          “You know, earlier… when I told you that there was someone else?” She broke a long patch of silence we’d had.

          “Hm.”

          Her voice seemed to be right in my ear, her grip tightening slightly as we came to a wider path. “I… don’t believe that it was Shurik. It was before… before you arrived.”

          “Someone else? Miku?” I asked.

          She shook her head. “No. Not Miku. Not… anyone I recall.”

          Such news was discomforting. The strange radio call had put me naturally on more of an edge since we’d left the generator room. “Who… well, what did they look like?”

          I waited for a response, but she’d gone quiet once more. I looked to her.

          “No.” She shook her head frigidly. “Forget that I said that.”

          “Tell me.” I insisted. “You can’t say something like that and not go into it.”

          “It… was a pioneer. I was sure of it.” She looked nervously to me, wobbling. “Far away, in the dark… I was attempting to walk after I’d landed, and… I know what I saw. I called out, but they… whoever it was would not come to me. But I know what I saw.”

          My skin went noticeably cold. Here we were in the underbelly of… whatever this place really was, with legends of ghosts at the old camp, and now I was being told of mysterious figures that didn’t seem interested in helping us. “You’re positive? I mean… when I found you, you weren’t exactly yourself.”

          “I know what I saw.” She insisted, yet again. The look in her eyes was serious; more concerned, rather. “Someone else is here.”

          I stopped for a second, holding her closely as I let my hand with the pipe hang loose. I listened carefully.

          “Wha…”

          “ _Shh…_ ”

          The tunnels were eerily quiet, as always. It was quiet enough to hear the tinnitus in my ears. Still…

          The girl had gotten me paranoid. At least, that’s what I told myself. There was nobody to be seen in the shadows, coming toward us in the flickering lights. There was no denying, though, that nerves were starting to get the best of both of us.

          “Nothing. Let’s go. Just keep quiet for a bit, okay?”

          She weakly nodded, taking another step.

* * *

 

          Continuing, we went down a couple more flights of stairs, which immediately landed outside of a heavy metal door. It wasn’t the typical industrial style; it had a big wheel in the center, like a vault would have. The door looked like it was built to withstand a good amount of abuse.

          “Guess this is Bullseye.” I spoke, surveying what stood before us.

          Svetlana let go of me and propped herself against the wall, taking a break from our awkward walk together. “Let us hope so,” she said quietly, her stomach making yet another low rumble.

          I took hold of the wheel, and after a couple of solid tries, I had it turning. Age and rust made the entire mechanism shriek loudly, and yet another fine coating of orange dust fell on my shoulders. I sneezed, turning my head sideways.

          In that brief moment, I caught the edge of a figure standing in the stairwell we’d just come down. Standing just out of sight, imposingly tall, motionless, wearing what resembled a pioneer's uniform...

          No, we certainly were not alone here. And whoever it was, if friendly, could have simply said something.  _Anything._

          All we had was silence.


	26. Underground pt 3 - "Quarters At The End Of The World"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing OCs, as it turns out, is a much more difficult task than I'd thought it would be, especially when they have to fit into a world that's already been set up with lots of other characters from the canon work. I hope this makes Svetlana a more fleshed-out, enjoyable character overall.
> 
> Recommended listening for this chapter:  
> \- "Theme of Jupiter - Night" by Alexey Omelchuk, "S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Call of Pripyat" OST  
> \- "Fairy Tale" by Sergey Eybog, "Winter Novel" OST

          I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I wanted them to be, but even in the wavering light, I couldn’t mistake a human figure. Standing halfway up the flight to the next floor, it was clear that whoever it was knew of our presence. It kept motionless and partially concealed, the majority of its visage a silhouette on the wall, cast by the lighting in the stairwell.

          Cold rushed down my spine as I did my best to stifle panic. Svetlana looked toward me; from where she sat, she couldn’t immediately see what I was seeing. However, she knew something was wrong, as she peered briefly to get a look – she froze and flattened back against the wall, her eyes as big as dinner plates.

          A second passed, several more to follow. The figure didn’t move. Neither did we. I simply stood, holding the pipe I’d been carrying, once again caught in between fight-or-flight.

          “Who are you?” I finally spoke, my fear immediately giving way to anger that showed in my voice.

          Nothing. I waited for a response. Were it anybody we knew, anyone at all… they would answer. They’d come down to us. The fact that there wasn’t the slightest reaction to a direct query didn’t make for a good feeling.

          The lights flickered, signaling a potential nightmare scenario – darkness, with whoever this was just waiting to come down to us when we’d be vulnerable. The bulbs dimmed, turning our surroundings to a dark sepia tone. I instinctively drew back with the pipe, ready to take the heaviest swing I could manage.

          In the back of my mind, I’d been on the defensive ever since we’d left the generator room – that eerie radio call being our driving ambition. All along the way, the feeling had continued to mount that that we were, indeed, being watched. Stalked, more appropriately. Whether or not it was with good intentions, it didn’t make me comfortable.

          Luckily, the lights didn’t stay dim for long. The generator was only having a brief hiccup on unstable fuel. A number of seconds passed, and our illumination returned to normal.

          As my eyes readjusted, I saw nobody on the stairwell.  Not a silhouette, not an outline. Nothing. We were alone again. I couldn’t even hear the sound of footsteps or anything that would indicate that this person had left. They’d simply vanished without a trace.

          “You did see…?” I whispered to Svetlana, who simply nodded, lips quivering. I presented a palm to her. “S-stay here.”

          At the landing, I peered around and up, trying to make something out. I even took a few steps up, not planning to go very far.

          Nothing. I stopped my breathing and listened intently.

          “Come out!” I shouted. “Get down here.”

          I waited once more, not truly sure if I wanted any sort of answer that time. More than ever, I wanted to get the hell out of there, get back to the camp, back to the idyllic summer days, the greenery, the cabins… Olga Dmitrievna… anywhere but this damned place.

          After a good wait, I felt that I’d had enough. I began to get that feeling from before – back when I’d ventured to free Alisa from her jail cell in camp. The feeling of _‘you do not belong here. Leave.’_ A feeling that I’d quickly learned to trust.

          I bounded back down the steps, reaching down to Svetlana and wrenching her up off the floor. She seemed just as determined to move out of that stairwell as me, as she readily clutched me with both arms, hanging from me like a doll. “Let’s go. Come on.”

          I gave the heavy door a solid push with my foot, making it swing open on tired, rusted hinges that groaned loudly enough to signal our presence to anyone – or anything – in this place. So be it; I was running on adrenaline again, and would rather put that energy to good use.

          Beyond the door was a long, dusty chamber filled with rusted bedframes. Four, eight, sixteen… there were enough beds to accommodate a small army. It extended for a good ten meters, another door waiting at the end.

          We clumsily made our way inside. In my haste, I practically tripped over my own feet and nearly took a header. Stumbling, Svetlana fell away from me and quickly scurried across the floor on her hands and knees, scooting herself toward one of the bedframes, her hands trembling with the flashlight.

          I quickly slammed the door closed and, dropping the pipe I’d been carrying, turned the wheel to seal it. There was a handle meant to secure the mechanism and lock the door, but a couple of tries revealed that it wasn’t operable. Hopefully, though, we wouldn’t need to worry about that. All we needed was enough time to figure out our next move.

          Panting, exhaling my panic and replacing it with mouthfuls of stale air, it took a bit of time for me to pull my wits together. I listened closely, pressing my ear to the cold steel skin of the door, but heard nothing on the other side.

          Having shaken off her fear much faster than I, Svetlana was shining her flashlight all around, revealing aged, faded Soviet posters on the walls. Many of them were military in nature – soldiers with rifles and gas masks. Others were informative pieces, with diagrams on how to fit gas masks, tables of radiation dosages… 

          …And details on disposal of dead bodies. Anyone who’d missed the showing of _Threads_ would get quite the remedial lesson here. Only a few posters were meant to be morale boosters – reminding survivors of the glorious Motherland and the principles of communism to be upheld when the rest of the world was in ashes. One in particular was plastered with an ominous, succinct command: **“восстанавливать”** \-- “Rebuild.”

          On the many bunks, mattresses for each were rolled up and tied, meant to be used when a planned time had come. On one side of the room were several cutouts in the floor, with holes in the very center – toilets, of the squatting variety. 

          “What do you suppose this all is?” Svetlana asked.

          “Some sort of barracks, I guess.” I took in our surroundings cautiously, noting how there wasn’t much around in the line of actual equipment. Lockers and cabinets lay open and empty, rusting. “If you want to win a war, you need boots on the ground. That’s what I’ve heard, anyhow. This must have been a place for soldiers or politicians to bunker down. Quarters at the end of the world.” 

          Over on her side of the room, stacks of cardboard boxes, a few of them open, grabbed Svetlana’s attention. “Look!” She took the liberty of rooting through one of them, scattering flat packages that were wrapped in some sort of black plastic. She brushed the dust from one and read the top. Her eyes lit up. “We can eat these!”

          Trying to stave off the cold stab of panic I still felt, I carefully came over to inspect her find. Indeed, it was a box of ration packs. I picked one up, turning it over in my jittery hands. “How old do you think these are?” I asked.

          “Who cares?” she replied, yanking the box down onto the floor with her with a crash. Obviously, hunger was her driving force, as she immediately bit open the seal on the pack and proceeded to scatter the contents everywhere. Inside were a few small tins, what looked like hard candies, a package of crackers – likely the only edible thing in the whole bunch.

          Also in the package was a box of liquid – water. I was vaguely reminded of “survival water” -- something I’d found at a yard sale, many years back. I didn’t think such things could exist, but in memory, it was similar to a kid’s juice box, but filled with water. The packages boasted of some ridiculous shelf life, anywhere between twenty to fifty years. I imagined that these were no different.

          I dropped the package I’d taken back in the box, still in a different type of survival mode. “I’d avoid anything in a tin.” I told her, moving to inspect the other door.

          “ _Pochemu_?” she queried, her mouth full of stale cracker dust, making her words hard to understand. “It can’t go bad, can it?”

          “Of course it can. Everything expires. Twinkies, mayonnaise… well, honey doesn’t… But those rations are probably older than the both of us combined.”

          “ _Mmn_ … I would commit crimes for some Polish _mayonez_ …” She began to root some more, looking for other things to stuff her face with. There were a couple of variations of meals to choose from in the box. Obviously, my warning was lost on her.

          The opposite door was almost exactly the same as the other, and was closed solidly. I gave it a quick inspection, noting that just like the other, the lock wasn’t functional. The crank, however, was. Our next move would surely be through this portal.

          For the moment, we were safe. I took an extra sigh of relief and continued to search the room, looking for medical supplies, which I found in a single box underneath one of the bunks.

          To my dismay, it looked like most of the supplies had been gone through. All that remained was a small roll of gauze, a nearly empty bottle of iodine and a pair of scissors. It was the bare minimum required to patch myself up.

          My hands trembled while I held the iodine bottle, but I knew it was necessary. I rolled up my sleeve and, using the gauze to bite down on, poured what was left of the liquid on the deep gouges Shurik had made in my arm.

          Svetlana nearly choked as I let off an extended groan of pain. I missed Viola’s expert touch; this shit hurt! I quickly pulled the length of gauze around my wound, wrapping it tightly over the intense sting that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

          Once I was done cursing under my breath and hissing through my teeth like a wuss, I placed the box on the bed, noting a small sheet of paper that had been hiding amongst the meager medical supply. I took it out, read it…

          Written in block lettering that looked somewhat familiar to me was a message, scrawled in pencil: **“DO NOT TAKE 410”**

          Cryptic. I tried to figure out what it might have meant – a room number, perhaps? A locker? A chemical compound? A medicine?

          Not knowing what to really make of it, I placed the note back in the box and pushed it all aside, searching for other bits of gear that could come in handy.

          A collection of flashlights – in one corner, covered in layers of dust were archaic hand torches, fitted with square, bulky batteries that weighed nearly a kilo in themselves. I picked one up and tested it out, but discovered that it was dead. Another yielded a similar result, same as another.

          Upon closer inspection, it appeared that none of them had been placed with the foresight that they’d sit unused for decades. That being said, the batteries were all corroded and useless. I cursed my bad luck, thankful for the one functioning light we had with us, and for the meantime, the generator that was still giving us what it could.

          Looters had taken everything else useful; cases describing rope, kits of what I believed to be anti-rad, vodka – a find that would make a hero out of any pioneer boy – were all empty. No tools, no weapons; I could see things like that fetching a price in some Soviet market. They'd been less keen to take a small library of books on communism; all the big names: Trotsky, Lenin, Marx... a number of volumes were simply gathering dust. I couldn't help but chuckle.

          The thought of looters did give me a bit of hope regardless: if somebody could find their way in here, that surely meant that there was a way out of this place and back to the surface.

          Taking it all into account, all we had to work with was the food stock and a bountiful supply of dusty toilet paper, which could come in handy for a while if we had to literally bunker ourselves. I toyed with the idea of bringing some back to camp; the idea of wiping with issues of _Pravda_ , as I’d heard from a couple of pioneers in passing, was not an attractive prospect.

          I made my way back over to Svetlana and sat down on a nearby bedframe, scrunching my face at how hard the iron was under my butt. I didn’t mind too much; out of all of my problems, it was the easiest one to deal with. I could always unroll a dingy mattress if the need arose.

          Having set up a small banquet for herself, heating a tin with a survival stove – those little pots with the jellied gas inside – Svetlana was content and quiet, munching on crackers smeared with a gluey white substance – pig fat. It was a part of Russian cuisine that I hadn’t been exposed to, nor did I want to be.

          Considering how long it had all been sitting, I wondered how long it’d take before her meal would try to force its way out her other end in the worst manner. _“Hell, she dug her own grave. She can lie in it.”_ I thought.

          I watched her eat for a short time, then spoke up. “How are you feeling?”

          Taking a sip of water to wash down the crumbs, she leaned back against the dusty iron bedframe. “Still hurting, but better.” She offered a stale cracker to me, which I accepted. “What to do now?”

          The foodstuff was dry, as flavorful as a sheet of paper. Just as well; I wasn’t very hungry. “Good question. I’ve still no clue of where we really are, or if we’re still being looked for.”

          She looked at the floor grimly, still chewing. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere. “I hope… I hope someone we know finds us soon. I don’t want to stay here.”

          “Who would?” I moved from the bedframe and sat down across from her, on the cold floor. “This place is no party. When we get the chance, we should get moving.”

          She nodded. It looked like she was going to say something else, but quickly stopped herself.

          “So, to address the elephant in the room… you did see what I saw out there, right? On the stairwell?” I asked.

          Averting her gaze back toward her meal, Svetlana delayed her response, giving the impression that she didn’t want to discuss the topic at all. “Of course. But… I choose not to give it an explanation.”

          I arched a brow. “And why is that?”

          She looked me straight in the eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense by any scientific standpoint. Perhaps… perhaps we are both delusional, and what was out there doesn’t exist at all. We have no proof, so how could it?” Saying this, she seemed to reassure herself with a very slight nod, just as her brother would. “So it doesn’t. It doesn’t exist.”

          I upturned my hands. “Just because it can’t be explained, or there’s no proof… doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist in some way. You said it yourself way back… you saw someone who didn’t answer you. And this damned radio…” I pulled it from my shoulder. “Whatever this was… I took it as a challenge.”

          More and more, it seemed that she was going back to her usual programming, her standby of being completely immovable – obstinate. It made me regret feeding her. “Interference on short wave radio is fully possible. Also… there is no way for you to be sure of what you saw, either. We could be safe for all we know.”

          I shook my head, exhaling. General fatigue was making me have a very short fuse.  “Sveta… you kill me. You really do.”

          Her expression seemed to sour as she looked down at the floor, her face wrought with cold regret. It was honestly the most human I’d ever seen her behave. “I just want you to believe that we’ll be okay. You must believe, alright?” she quietly pleaded.

          “I don’t understand…”

          “And now you think ‘wow, but this girl must only live in her head’, right? What is belief?” She focused intently on me, smiling slyly. “It is a perfect way to hide: dedicate to science all of your life, while inside, you pray like a nun. Brion, I don’t want to know what is out that door, because I _know_ it is there. I won’t give it purpose, nor give a name. I can’t. I won’t.”

          Leaning back, I scratched my chin. “So you’re saying I should just wish it away, then? It’s all about belief, right? Ignorance is bliss!”

          “No, _Durak_." She giggled. "It’s about my forcing you to speak against belief; belief was your stance in the first place, and now listen to yourself!”

          My brain popped a fuse. She’d blown so much of our time punking me with a juvenile and yet ingenious word game. It both angered, confused and amazed me – so much that I was counting twos as threes.

          She leaned toward me then, her voice hushed, yet intense. “Consider this… what good would it do, knowing what’s out there? Nurse Viola will say, if we make it back to camp: ‘Delusion from sensory deprivation.’ And she will add a self-absorbed laugh, correct as always. You and I will be looked at as freaks – for a while, anyhow. Only we will know, because we will be the only ones that care.”

          As she picked up a tin filled with some goopy sort of paste, it was clear that her fingers were unstable and shaking. She continued. “I could also offer that we truly have run into an entity that defies logic and science, or an unstable local who has chosen to toy with us for entertainment. Would any of those help you to feel better, _Tovarisch?_ Which is better from where you sit?”

          When she put it that way, I couldn’t give her an answer. It was quite shocking – Long ago, I’d disregarded her as being simply book-smart, otherwise lacking common sense. Now it seemed that the tables had indeed turned, as her exposition showed that she was doing fine with compartmentalizing the problem – a favored tactic of the girl whom I’d lamented to Slavya about. It was a trait that I, by default, hated.

          “Shit… Delusional _would_ be nice.” I replied. “It doesn’t change what is or isn’t out there.”

          “Exactly. You follow better than I thought you would.” She set the tin down and began to stir a small pot that she had cooking over the survival stove. “So for now, we let it be. We have supplies to last, even to repopulate earth if your Ronald Reagan blows us all up at this moment.”

          I shook my head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I like the planet for what it is. Mostly. And… well…” I paused, not sure if I wanted to address her idea of us becoming the new Adam and Eve – Lot and his daughters, more appropriately. Instead, I shook my head.

          “And?” she asked, picking up the pot and blowing softly over it.

          “And nothing.”

          With a small pout, she leaned forward and offered me a spoonful of whatever it was that she’d been heating: an almost concentrated fruit mixture in water. Kompot, if it could really be called that. I reluctantly took it from her, for a few moments enjoying the taste of old berries on my tongue.

          We sat quietly, the only sounds we could hear being the hum from the lights, still powered by the generator. Beyond that, there was deathly silence in the system of tunnels, the entire facility and however far it reached.

          “Thank you.” I handed the spoon back to her. “Question: is this the kind of thing you always talk about with your brother? I’ve noticed how much you two whisper to each other.”

          She took the spoon, enjoying a bit of the fruit mixture for herself. “Sometimes. You would be surprised at what I talk about with Brother.”

 _"Pretty sure I wouldn’t.”_ I thought.

          “You did say that he came with you, right?” she asked. “I could have sworn…”

          I nodded. “He was certain that you could handle yourself, but I did a little convincing.”

          “You or Dvachevskaya?” There was a certain hint of grumpiness in her tone.

          “Dmitrievna. Olga Dmitrievna.”

          Biting her lip, she looked away with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh. Right, it would be that way…”

          I looked at her with a slight hint of regret; I didn’t want to discuss her and her brother’s unique dynamic, especially when I’d been cracking jokes about them the previous night. What she’d said hours before was downright creepy, as well.

          Still, we weren’t going anywhere for the time being, and it was obvious that her mind was on something – or someone – to look forward to on the outside. I could at least try to boost her morale. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

          She lifted her eyes back toward me, quietly nodding.

          I let her in on how I’d dangled the possibility of impressing Alisa in front of him. Of course, it was Olga’s doing above all, but his pursuit of the haughty rebel in sandals was fuel for his fire. Surprisingly, he’d done well on the hike with the exception of his arguments with Shurik over directions.

          “So… he was lured by the charms of a girl with morals as loose as her shirt.” She put the pot down and moodily crossed her arms.

          “That’s pretty cold.” I replied. “He does have an interest in her, as any healthy male would. You can’t really blame him, can you?”

          She shook her head. “I suppose not. I simply thought he would have… considered me a bit more in his decision making. I thought I was more important to him; I’m his sister, after all.”

          “I don’t think it was anything like that, Sveta. I’m sure that if he didn’t come out with us, he would’ve eventually run out here on his own to find you. Probably have hurt himself in the process, so really… it was the best outcome."

          My thoughts drifted back home for a moment, to family. Homesickness prodded at me in a flicker. "Besides, I'm probably not one to really talk, but in a brother’s eyes, nobody can ever truly take the place of a sister. You’re family. You’re blood.”

          She churned away on this mentally for a solid minute or so. Eventually, the faintest of smiles lifted her lips. “He surely would have come out for me on his own, eventually. That’s certainly our Ivan.”

          I shrugged. “Very possible. I mean, what kind of brother would that make him if he didn’t at least entertain the thought?”

          Looking up at me, Svetlana’s gaze was fragile, unblinking. Her lips quivered slightly. “Would you? Do you…?”

          “Of course I would.” I took a quick glance at the door, making sure that we were still safe. “Hell… I mean, my sis and I aren’t exactly joined at the hip – no offense – but if she needed me, I’d do everything I could for her. That’s how it should be.”

          “Right. That _is_ how it should be.” She looked thoughtfully toward me. “I am sure that you think oddly of the two of us. I’ve even heard some say… extremely rude things; none of it is true.”

          I bit my tongue, wearing the blankest expression I could muster. “Twins have a hard time being separated. That’s what I’ve heard, anyhow.”

          “Yes!” She responded with a lively nod. “We are identical in so many ways, and we are so different from everyone else. It makes the world seem very… large. Only one person truly knows you on the inside and out. I’ve studied it a great deal.”

          I nodded. “I assume you’re going to pursue that in later life? Psychology?”

          “Absolutely. The human mind is fascinating! So is the mind of a machine – when it works, anyhow.” With a hint of embarrassment, she brushed her hair over her shoulders. “I suppose no mind is perfect, as I’ve come to discover.”

          “Well then… you know him better than anyone, so… you can draw a conclusion if you’d like. If you ask me, putting the camp leader and Alisa Dvachevskaya aside from it all, he came out here for you alone. We were all just accessories to him finding you.”

          With a gradually warming smile, Svetlana pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them. I tried vainly not to notice her panties – white with black polka dots – greeting me from under her skirt as she did so. “That does sound like him. I can go with that.” She looked at me. “And what about you? You didn’t come here for me, did you? Surely you couldn’t have. I haven’t been… polite to you since we met.”

          “Since we’re on this honesty thing… You’re right. I didn’t like you very much, especially after last night, with what happened to Ulyana. But… there's no way I was going to let you or Miku stay out here, possibly die. If I had to take that home with me, well…”

          Thinking about it, I had no idea how I would really feel. It was a possibility that nothing in this world was real in the slightest – not that it made a difference – but would I honestly care if somebody here died? Would any of it matter in the long run?

          Such things could be likened to watching a video of someone dying in a country halfway across the world; from where one person sits, it is simply a collection of pixels on a screen, a representation with the possibility of being completely out of context, and or fabricated. It may or may not affect the viewer on a personal, emotional level. Some simply do not react to such things.

          But to those nearby, in that corner of the world, it would be far too real to them. They likely would have no idea of the audience that is seeing what they are seeing, ones who immediately disregard it all due to distance and lack of likelihood that the same circumstances will ever come to them.

          “…I don’t think I would be able to handle that.” I finished my thought, looking directly at her. “We all should be able to go home. Whether we like each other or not doesn’t really matter.”

          “Can I confess something?” She rested her hands tentatively on the braces over her ankles.

          “Shoot.”

          Her smile was disarming, and surprisingly cute. I hadn’t been expecting it, but after all we’d gone through, I took it as a nice reward. “I still think you are a western spy… but a western spy I can trust. Maybe.”

          Her statement made me laugh. It sounded almost unbearably cliché, but I appreciated what she was trying to tell me. “Thanks. You’re alright too, Sveta.”

          She giggled lightly. “You and brother are the only ones who call me that. It’s nice.”

          I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I was slightly discomforted, mostly because I hadn’t seen it coming, but Svetlana had indeed risen a bit in my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it would continue when we’d get back to camp.

          Not only that, but I still had other things to deal with – Slavya being the more pressing issue. Our misadventure definitely hadn’t been forgotten, and more than once during the treacherous journey, I’d fantasized about the camp’s most steadfast pioneer rushing down the tunnels, coming to save the day.

          For now, though, it was just me and the white-haired technologist girl with separation anxiety, who was actively comparing me to her dear brother. Alone in this room, lights burning low, with plenty of mattresses we could unroll and fix up…

          Turning my eyes away, I took a look at my watch: it was several minutes past midnight. We’d been stuck underground for much longer than I’d thought, and by now most of the pioneers above would be asleep.

          Except, of course, for the ones still out looking for us. _If_ they were still looking. It was likely that they’d been called back. When morning came, we’d likely be meeting with the local police instead of our cohorts.

* * *

 

          Once she’d satisfied her hunger on decades-old rations, Svetlana rose up a bit, sitting on her knees. She yawned, covering her mouth. “Are you ready to go?”

          Sympathetically, I yawned as well. Normally midnight wasn’t a problem for me, but tiredness had crept up rather suddenly. “Sure you want to? We might be able to sleep here.”

          Smiling coyly, Svetlana shook her head, extending her arms out to me. “Up at camp is our place to sleep. Besides, it was your idea to go, remember? We’ll do as you said. Come.” She coaxed.

          I stood, easing the aches in my joints before helping her up. Even on weak feet, she stayed incredibly stable, now lacking any earlier reservations she’d had about wrapping herself around me. I tried not to notice it.

          Once I collected the pipe that I’d dropped, we moved toward the opposite door, opening it to see yet more dimly illuminated hallway, extending further into the unknown where, hopefully, we’d be met by better luck. We bid farewell to our little safe haven and moved on.


	27. Off The Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sidebar to the current plot, we spend a bit of time with Olga Dmitrievna and Viola. This chapter took much longer to put together than I'd planned, but I felt it necessary to set up the future plot and establish one theory of what Sovyonok is really all about. Or, at least, what I feel is a good theory.

          “Another?”

          Placing her empty glass on Viola’s desk, Olga silently nodded, directing her glance toward the infirmary window. She looked out at the inky blackness of the summer night, for the first time in years feeling the sense of dread, a foreboding that hungrily waited for her to make her next decision.

          Half an hour before, that decision had been made. With a backpack on her shoulders, the camp leader had made a deliberate march through camp on her own, confident that she could get to her destination without being noticed.

          However, nurse Viola had spotted her fairly easily, despite her astigmatism; neither woman could go unnoticed for long at their height and build. It was rare to see anyone in camp moving so purposefully so late at night, particularly the highest authority figure, loaded down with a considerable amount of gear.

          After a brief talk, the two had chosen to convene in the infirmary, and after a shot or two of Stolichnaya, the backpack that Olga had carried lay ignored on the floor, her mission delayed.

          The solitary bottle of vodka sat between the pair, and it found its way to the nurse’s hand. Another serving was poured out, held calmly between Olga’s worn, yet gentle hands.

          Unknown to most of the pioneers, this activity had been a fairly common ritual between the two women. They had met like this for a number of years – typically at session’s end, to share a few drinks and mull over the year’s events.

          Other times, when stress had become too much for either to bear, the two former Sovyonok pioneers would break tradition and bring the bottle out early. Such was the case for this particular night.

          Olga took the now filled glass, lifting it to her lips. Instead of drinking, she briefly inhaled, taking in the sharp aroma of the spirit that had been a staple of life for herself and most everyone she knew. Such a smell brought memories of summer holidays years ago; the last one being right before she’d taken her position as a youth camp leader.

          “When was the last time you took holiday?” Viola asked, observing her friend’s actions as she set the bottle back down, taking up her own glass once more. It had only been her first, but she was already feeling her limit approaching, much to her chagrin.

          Olga frowned slightly, combing through her memories, which were already drifting on an ocean of fermented grains. Unlike Viola, she’d taken a number of glasses in somewhat rapid succession, moderation in that regard having never been her strong suit. “I took a week off before this session. It was nice to be able to stay at home and read for most of it.”

          Viola shook her head. “That is not a proper holiday. When was the last time you went outside of your town? Out to Lake Baikal, for instance?” She laughed inwardly. “Surely you haven’t been scared away.”

          Indeed, while friends would occasionally write to her of their summer holidays, venturing out into parts of the land to explore, lounge, and of course, drink… Olga herself could only recall a few years into the past, back when more youthful vigor had made her more daring and impulsive - - in some cases, even foolish.

          “Before I took position here.” Olga took a careful sip of her drink, craving a cigarette to go along with it. It was a social vice that she happily never saw to the point of fixation, but such a thing sounded fantastic to her at the moment. “Otherwise, it’s been work, work, work… I couldn’t tell you of all the different places they had me throughout the year.

          “At one time I was stamping mail – can you believe that? I was supposed to be a mailroom supervisor, but they had me putting postmarks on envelopes and packages like an underling. Being here… this is as close to a vacation as I could ask for.”

          Viola gave her friend a hard, intense stare. “After so many years, let us be honest; we both love it here. However, I am sure you have earned enough merit in the eyes of the Party to take an actual trip; one that doesn’t include your flat or this place.”

          Olga thought about it, then shook her head. Outside of Lake Baikal, her hometown, Sovyonok, or the rite of passage for all Russian people – a pilgrimage to Moscow – she didn’t see the benefit. “It’s as good as it gets, isn’t it? The woods, the camp, the pioneers… just seeing them is enough to take me right back. I am on holiday as we speak. And look!” She held up her glass. “Irresponsibility of youth, inside a cup!”

          An indulgent smile curved the lips of the nurse. “It does make one feel young at heart, that is for sure. Some of these boys, growing into men…”

          Such talk made Olga bite her lip indignantly. “I am not keen to hear details. Do what you must, but how much do you expect me to forgive?”

          Viola raised her right hand as though to swear an oath, but the tone of her voice was too sincere to be taken seriously. “I have performed only what my medical training requires of me.” It took a passing second for her façade to melt away, the alcohol doing its job of numbing the inhibitive sectors of the brain. At that point, the nurse giggled girlishly and ran her tongue along her upper lip. “Is what I have and will always tell that ignorant and disgusting Kamarov.”

          The mention of commissar Kamarov was enough to make Olga down her glass in one gulp, causing her throat to tingle harshly. It was rarely a pleasure to meet with the rotund, aging, balding leader of the local district. Despite the background and accomplishments of both camp leader and nurse, it was quite clear that the man saw little merit in such things.

          As such, just standing in his office on rare occasions never failed to make Olga feel like an adolescent. The feeling didn’t go well with the leering glances that he made no substantial effort to hide. The looming threat of the man making an inspection trip to Sovyonok was one of many things on her list of worries.

          Viola politely placed her hand on Olga’s knee, noticing the change in her expression. “You won’t face him alone. Don’t worry. Besides, he says every year he will come out, and has he ever bothered to do so? No. Too busy doing… well, what we’re doing at this moment. Right?”

          Olga nodded, her last drink creeping up on her with some haste. “I don’t worry about myself. I worry about the girls here in the camp. Girls like… Slavya. He’d---” She stopped momentarily to burp. “--- He’d be all over her. Or Dvachevskaya – she may be a decent distraction.”

          The thought alone made Viola shiver. “Poor girls. Let’s not entertain such thoughts. Besides, we have other things to attend to, as always.”

          Going back over her statement, Olga felt a sharp sense of regret, nodding. “You’re right. That was a horrible thing to say. And yes, we do…”

          Viola crossed her legs, relaxing a bit as her chair’s springs squeaked plaintively. She reached into her pocket and took out a pack of _Belomorkanal_ cigarettes, making Olga’s eyes light up. She took one for herself and offered one to her friend.

          “One of these days we’ll find out just how bad these are for our health.” Viola commented as she struck a match and lit up.

          Olga did the same, sending several puffs of white smoke immediately upward. “I hear it is the same in the west; ‘doctors recommend this brand of cigarette.’ Ridiculous. Yet another thing that we share with them.”

          Viola nodded, her mind moving to the visiting ambassador. The fact that he was somewhere unknown, as well as his condition was certainly a serious topic, but she had done her best to divert attention from the matter. “And so, while we speak of the west…you were running off to find our visitor, were you not?”

          “I knew he would be trouble from the start.” Olga interjected, bitterly crossing her arms. “The moment that letter arrived from Moscow, bouncing right off the desk of the commissar… I knew that boy would turn this whole camp upside down.”

          “Oh, has he really?” There was a playful, yet knowing glint in Viola’s eyes. “It’s something we should expect anyhow. Something changes every session.”

          Olga knew fully well what Viola was trying to tell her, but her head was adrift with several other thoughts at once. Indeed, the year before, another young man had arrived in the final week of the session, and in a similar fashion had made a mess of things in short order. One week was all it took, and Olga had lost the trust and loyalty of one of the best pioneers she’d ever known.

          Slavya had proven herself as steadfast and dependable. Fiercely loyal, moral… or so the camp leader had thought. When that boy arrived, his natural defience spread to her like an infection, the effects of which were still routing the intricate ecosystem that Olga had grown to know and love. _Controlled_ chaos. _Her_ corner of the world.

          Not having that balance was not something that Olga was prepared for. Now with this new one… she was having to do more than simply push her way out of her zone of comfort. She would have to do something reckless to restore _her_ Sovyonok; something dangerous and impulsive to keep things from degrading further.

          “Are you still with me?” asked Viola. “Or are you floating in space with _Mir_?”

          “ _He_ is still out there.” Olga said firmly, looking to her discarded backpack. “I have to be the one to go get him. That was what I’d planned before coming here and… drinking with shameless abandon. No more! I’m going.” With that, the camp leader stood up, grinding out her cigarette in an ashtray and leaning over to retrieve her backpack.

          However, momentum and equilibrium being what they were, she found herself losing her balance and being sent on a collision course with the infirmary bed, which she landed on with all of her weight. The springs squeaked in protest as she collapsed upon the mattress.

          The action caused both of the ladies to burst into loud, immature laughter.  It took some time for Olga to right herself, as she continued to laugh without a care in the world.

          The nurse found it impossible not to admire the blue-skirted rear of her friend; pointed up toward the ceiling as the camp leader lay sprawled on the bed, such a portion of the body was only flattered, despite concise Soviet regulations to downplay such a thing. With a bite of her lower lip, she stood, taking the bottle of vodka with her.

          Olga eventually gave up her struggle of standing back up, flopping onto her back, doing her best to keep the room from wandering about of its own accord. “Well then… that wasn’t a good plan!” She pointed to Viola with a comical amount of conviction. “I blame you for this. You know that I can’t handle very much alcohol!”

          Viola, her stability a great deal better, stood over Olga and teased her with the bottle, which was half empty. “I should confess: my plan is a stunning success.”

          “Plan? What plan?” Olga asked, then immediately laughed, stretching her arms high over her shoulders. “To keep me from going? Because I _will_ save that boy… and put him under heavy… he’s going to spend time in…” With every sentence she tried to complete, she found herself failing. Coherent thought was becoming a distant concept to her. “He’s… I’m going to make him…!”

          With a blush in her pale cheeks, Viola sat down next to Olga on the bed. “Go on. You know how _I_ handle drinking. Every sentence you don’t finish, I finish in my head. It is exceedingly fun.”

          Olga playfully slapped her arm. “Of course. I know you. Dirty. _Dirrrty._ ”

          “So?” Viola giggled. “You’re going to make him do _what_ for you? And which part of you are you calling heavy?”

          Try as she might, Olga couldn’t finish the thought without bursting into more laughter. Her face was fixed with a gratuitous grin “No! Not like that! I would never do such things. What kind of leader would I be?”

          “That depends on who you ask! He’d probably think you were the absolute best.” Viola winked.

          Olga’s mind continued to play tricks on her, running along on the tangent set forth by the nurse. She faintly shook her head. “ _Nnnnyet._ Why try convincing me? I’m not so desperate to look toward young men just yet.”

          “Are you so sure? When was your last time, then?” Viola asked, a lewd smile warming her cheeks.

          Olga shook her head with more fervor. “Next question.”

          “You see? I am only attempting to help. The last I remember from you was Andriy. Lake Baikal, years ago.”

          “Yes!” Olga agreed emphatically.  “A few years isn’t so bad, is it? And how are you helping?”

          “It is _tragic_. You would go on and on about him until, suddenly, nothing. You’ve never explained to me.”

          Olga reflected on the last person she’d had intimate contact with. At the end of her academy training to become a camp leader, she had met Andriy on holiday at the lake. Much to her surprise, the two came together quite quickly with a passion that had burned fiercely from the start.

          However, much like an overzealous flame, the frequent lovemaking between the two ran its course in a very short time, turning from a joy to a commonality, then to a chore. Once the thrill was gone, the young lovers found personality traits and desires that were not the slightest bit attractive to one another. From there, the bond between them was split rather harshly.

          Over the years, she’d tried her hand at the occasional date, but could never find herself willing to take things much further than a casual outing. Men, in her eyes, were painfully simple to a fault; they saw her in a limited dimension and, more often than not, strove to minimize her as much as possible.

          Beyond that, her devotion to the Party and to Sovyonok meant that she had to bury herself in the work, bunkering herself as she’d done after her breakup with Andriy. Within the hallowed walls, she had responsibility and power. The young ones could look up to her, respect her, give her life meaning and purpose. Even if they despised her, they could never break her down.

          It was a fixation that led to her having trouble recalling the last time she’d found herself lost in some form of wild abandon. Such a thought was simply unfathomable to the Olga Dmitrievna that the pioneers knew under the light of day.

          Lying on the infirmary bed as she was, Viola at her side, pickling her liver, was the closest she’d been in years to deviant behavior. It was a strange sensation to her, but she couldn’t find a particular reason at that moment to fight against it.  “He was a _debil_.” She finally stated. Her cheeks began to run red as she made an admission. “Absolutely fantastic in bed, but lacking everywhere else.”

          Viola giggled in a gratuitous fashion. “He must have been, yeah? You’re still bitter about it. I would have snatched him away from you if I’d known he was such a magnificent steed!”

          A small but deadly spark of contempt shot through Olga at those words, but it was quickly subdued. “I would have preferred if you did. Maybe everything would have turned out better for everyone.”

          The nurse teasingly pinched her cheek. “Oh, don’t be that way. Still… couldn’t the two of you have worked through the problems? Perhaps a compromise here and there?”

          It didn’t take Olga long at all to shake her head. “How I’ve asked myself those same questions again and again! The answer is still ‘no’. We were not going to fix any of that, even if we tried. And we did try; there are things that happened in my cabin that I still don’t like to think about.”

          Although a grown woman, Viola issued a squeal that could nearly rival the teenage girls in camp. “ _Oooooh_ , you can’t say something like that and not explain! How dare you!”

          Olga covered her friend’s mouth. “Never! Never… I was in such denial. I _wanted_ to keep him around. I thought we could work through things. I was even willing to become his wife – yes, he did ask – but any patience he showed was fake. He was a liar, and a bad one at that.”

          “I love how articulate you always are.” Viola pulled Olga’s hand away. “Even after drinking.”

          “I tried for a compromise.” Olga continued. “I brought him here. I wanted him to see what I was going to devote my life to, what I’d grown up in. All of those years spent here, then off to Komsomol, then to academy… S _pecifically_ so I could come back here, take the reins from Cheburkova…”

          The nurse smiled fondly. “Ah, Lilya Cheburkova. We always called her “Cheburek” when she wasn’t listening. How long ago it seemed…”

          “She certainly resembled a pastry of meat and potatoes after a while, didn’t she?” The thought of the golden-fried delight made both of their mouths water. Such a treat was too elaborate for the ladies in the canteen to bother feeding to mere pioneers. “Anyhow… He seemed to be supportive. He was willing to let me be a camp leader in summer, but live with him in St Petersburg otherwise. A normal life, so it would seem. And of course, he showed interest in what my life’s work would be.

          “But… the more I wanted that plan and talked about it, the more impatient he became. Literally, over days, with the two of us having the entire camp to ourselves between the sessions, I realized that I had been fooled by him. His only interest in this camp was figuring out which places we could have sex; there are very few places we didn’t at least attempt.”

          Viola had been holding her silence while listening to the tale, but couldn’t at that moment. Her friend had always kept details about her relationships under tight wraps, dedicating herself to being a disciplinarian by trade, a pioneer – overgrown, as it were – as a passion. “Oh my… quite the degenerate, it would seem! I really don’t know you at all, do I?”

          Olga was quick to point a finger back at Viola, but also used the opportunity to snatch the bottle from the nurse’s hands, unscrewing the cap with one deft twist.  Her memories headed down a pathway that she didn’t wish to travel, and yet she felt compelled, firing off a bitter narrative. “It became apparent after a week of his incessant cravings and certain things he said… that I couldn’t go through with it. I either had to tell him ‘no’, or allow him to degrade me further. I had to do what was best for myself and for the camp.

          “Of course, he didn’t take the news well. And… he blackened my eye, called me _cyka_ and left, threatening to report me to Kamarov. I still wonder if he did, but I am still employed. This camp is what I have. It’s mine.”

          With that, she took a drink straight from the bottle, much to Viola’s dismay. The nurse had to calmly pull it away from her, while firmly scolding. “No. No more for you. You finish this and there may not be any by session’s end.”

          Olga groaned, mostly in protest of being denied another drink, but also from knowing that she was right. “Fine. _Blyat_ … But don’t ask me to tell more about him. I ask sometimes the _very_ same questions – if things could have worked – then I wake up to my cabin on days like these, and I make to forget. And I’m happy with that. Understand?”

          “Very well.” Viola offered Olga her best smile of empathy. “We won’t talk about him. This is your life, your camp, your happiness. You get to choose what you want.”

          The camp leader shook her head, lying down fully on her back, stretching in a manner that could be seen as sensual. “It won’t be anybody in the uniform of a pioneer, I can tell you that much. But… you know, I have chosen this. I chose this camp over him. It has given me all I’ll ever need.”

          Placing the bottle aside, Viola looked down upon her friend with a slightly predatory stance, positioning herself as though to crawl on top of her.

          With the last drink, Olga’s view of the world was shifting even more, quickly obliterating any feelings she may have had toward her old memories of an insistent, libido-filled ex-lover. Looking up, it took her a number of moments to realize that Viola was staring into her eyes.

          “You aren’t trying to seduce me, are you?” Olga asked. “Was that your plan all along? Because I warn you…”

          “If I recall correctly, you were the one who initiated that first time. It was quite the pleasant surprise. Would have been a shame if Cheburek found out what we were up to back then.”

          Olga’s forehead wrinkled as a memory floated to the surface from many years prior, of her younger self as a pioneer. At that age, there were certain shameful things that took priority in pubescent young minds, and she knew for certain that she’d enlisted the help of her older friend for _something._ Her brain was starting to swim so much, she couldn’t tell memories from simple imagination.

          “I am well past that horrid age.” She finally stated. “But I do remember. It was… interesting.”

          With a giggle, Viola laid down next to her, nearly placing her face in her friend’s neck. “You mean ‘fun’. I had few objections when it came to somebody so innocent and cute.”

          “However, that time is not now.” Olga stated plainly. “And then, later, you helped me discover boys… They are a whole other kind of fun. The kind I do prefer... as bad as they can be for me.”

          Viola licked her lips, the topic enticing her like a hungry panther. “Quite excellent. You _are_ on my level. Or at least, you haven’t completely shut off where it really counts, so I ask: what do you intend to do with our ambassador, being that he is not normally one to wear a pioneer’s uniform? Don’t lie.”

          Olga sighed, even in her state becoming weary of Viola’s incessant roundabout questioning. However, the use of alcohol had dissolved certain blocks in her reasoning, and she smiled back at Viola with a gleam in her eye. “Anything that is necessary. I will teach him respect in whatever language he understands.”

          “ _Mmn_ , I can’t wait to hear about that!” Viola cackled, nonchalantly dropping her arm between Olga’s breasts to fiddle with her chin in a teasing manner.

          Olga fended her off, but did hold tightly to the arm, and in a haze that was pushing her into slumber, delicately kissed Viola’s fingertips.

          The nurse quieted herself then, speaking softly into her ear. “Do not worry yourself about him, now. You know that he will return of his own accord. What we cannot have is you going off into those woods alone. Stay right here for the night, and regret nothing in the morning, other than a headache.”

          Olga gave a faint laugh, not far from fading out of consciousness. “So truthful… you do know how I love you, right?”

          The nurse smiled, tenderly kissing her friend on the forehead. “Of course. We are closer than sisters. Never doubt the trouble I will go to for you. Ever.”

          With a wide smile, Olga allowed herself to drift into sleep, closing her eyes and cradling Viola’s arm like a cherished childhood toy. Her mouth moved silently, uttering unheard phrases.

  
          Viola lay there for a while, listening to the gentle breathing of her friend before eventually pulling herself free. Buried so deeply in slumber, Olga didn’t so much as stir as she was moved into a more dignified position and covered with a blanket.

          With a sigh, Viola went back to her desk, quietly musing. “We come all this way, to drink on this bed and _not_ do something. Such a silly life we both lead, Olga. Still, regardless… I love you. I do my best for you, which is to keep you from harm, keep you right here, in your favorite place in the world.”

          Turning the lights down low with the exception of a small one on her desk, the nurse donned her reading glasses and reached into the lower right drawer, removing a cleverly hidden ledger whose cover bore a title: “Proper Spleen Function and Diagnosis”.

          The book contained no such information, but rather was filled with lined paper, upon which was written elegant cursive, _In Italiano._ There were quite a few entries before them.

          Dating the entry, Viola’s pace was rapid as she wrote with a fountain pen:

_  
“June 28. This one of many. I have seen this date so many times, I have become bored to it. Honestly, it is tragic to be bored of even one of the few days we have in life.”_

_“I rest easily, knowing that I have done my duty as required. I cannot afford to become complacent. This session has surely been a testimony to that.”_

          Viola looked to Olga’s sleeping form for a few moments, and heaved a heavy sigh before continuing her writing. _“_ _I learned something new tonight. How long have Olga and I known each other, yet some details of her past haven’t come to light until now? How could I have never known what she has had to endure?”_

_“I write this, and I realize the wealth that I have been given. I can look back at these pages and see either memoirs or a map, a journey with a multitude of branches. My regret is the same thing doesn’t work for her anymore. The last time I presented Olga’s own diary to her, we experienced tragedy that I dare not repeat.”_

_“And so, I watch her go on about stories that could very well be lies. How can any of us truly be ourselves when each time, a part of us is missing? We find things that shouldn’t exist. We are given roles to play. Each time, with differences from slight to extreme. Who are we, really? Who am I? Have I lost track yet?”_

_“I wait for the day that none of these words make sense to me, replaced by something not written by my hand. I fear that day will come very soon. I may as well cast this book into the woods and forget it now. Blissful ignorance would be preferable to the heavenly hell that occurs every time this camp opens and we endure another summer, on this endless cycle.”_

          Tapping the paper with enough force to make a hole in the material, Viola forced herself to stop for a few moments, regaining her composure. Frustration manifested in her hands, the song of crickets outside the window doing very little to ease her grievance.

 _“In spite of it all, I know that I must endure. We all must do our part. I did mine. Tonight, Olga is safe. We will not have to witness her death yet again. Am I cursed to wish she would remember that event at least?_ ”

_“As long as she is safe, I know that we have a chance at tomorrow. Another chance at running this maddening race. In that, I feel redemption. I can endure at least one more time, until I am finally forced to forget.”_

          Finding no further words to write, Viola removed her glasses, placed the book carefully back in the drawer, and stood up. In that moment she felt a rare stab of her age, a slight ache in her back. In a way, she viewed it as vindication. After all, she had relived this day more times than she’d cared to count, and had yet to find herself as an old matron.

          “We’ll continue to play,” she murmured softly, walking across the room to Olga’s discarded backpack. The weight of which was such that she left it where it lay, but began to go through its contents.

          Her friend had gone through quite the trouble preparing enough kit to mount a rescue operation on her own. A hand torch, first aid kit, rope, ill-gotten medication – Viola would have to ask Slavya about that one – were among the items.

          What the nurse hadn’t been expecting was something encased in leather, with metal cold to the touch. Indeed at one point of her life, she’d handled one on an outdoor excursion with friends, but was somewhat aghast as she removed a Makarov PMM, fully loaded.

          Never had the thought crossed her mind that Olga could possess such an item, particularly in a camp where certain pioneers could pry where they shouldn’t.

          Now, looking toward the sleeping form on the bed, who was snoring a bit loudly for a  lady, she could only bend a brow. “Just what were you planning to do with this?”


	28. The Underground pt. 4 - "Full Circle"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will tie up the underground and bring readers back to Sovyonok. For now. I had a lot of fun conjuring up these chapters, but the camp we know and love awaits. That chapter should come very soon, as it is already halfway written. Aiming for a halloween release.

          As the night wore on, it became more and more difficult to pull Sveta along as both of us used up our energy. She was one of the skinniest girls in camp, among the lightest, which was a help. However, every person has a limit, and although she looked to be barely fifty kilos, keeping her standing was a continuous and tiring task.

          Luckily, we were both too stubborn for our own good. With the exception of the occasional rest break, we kept pushing forward, finding more disused infrastructure – open chambers, rooms filled with scrap metal and other debris; doors locked solid, providing no access without an immense amount of work; walls littered with Russian graffiti; sections of concrete tunnel giving way to sporadic portions of natural rock; rust, muck, and old garbage that served little purpose to us.

          Through it all, my partner insisted on walking, although it was a continuous pain for her. She was just as determined, if not more than I, to make it out of the tunnels. I’d offered to carry her along the way, try to make things easier on her, but she vehemently refused.

          She eventually had to swallow that pride of hers; there were a number of stairways leading up. Up was good. Up was encouraging. Every flight held the potential promise of us making it to the surface. She fidgeted and protested the first couple of times that I decided to be bold, scooping her up in my arms to carry her.

          With time she got over it, taking comfort in the brief times of having a human transport. However, it took some serious convincing when we arrived at a corroded ladder going straight up. We had no other options; the path we’d taken, the only one we’d been given, had come to a dead end. It was quite the climb; there was no way she’d be able to pull herself up with only her arms.

          It took summoning strength that I didn’t know I could have, and the arrangement of our bodies was more than complicated, but I eventually made a dangerous, slow climb with her on my back, wrapped around me as tightly as she could muster. The entire way up, with every grimy rung under my palms, I hoped and prayed with every ounce of my soul that she wouldn’t let go of me; moreover, that I wouldn’t slip and have us both fall to our death.

          Faith can move mountains; in our case, it moved us to the top, after what seemed like an eternity. My muscles were screaming by the time we reached the upper level, where solid flooring awaited us. My head pounded fiercely, my injury reminding me of its importance and the potential damage I’d done to myself. I could only hope that I wouldn’t suffer some sort of aneurysm before the night was over.

          After a rest, we continued a strained, stumbling journey that ended with us coming to the edge of a hole – a break in the concrete, rather. The floor of a long hallway had collapsed, leaving yet another considerable obstacle in our way. The gaping pit of darkness was all but impassable; there were segments on the sides that looked wide enough to skirt by.

          However, those portions didn’t look strong enough to hold someone like me; I weighed nearly twice as much as her, and would likely break the rest of the floor by trying to get across. There was electrical cabling running along the walls that could support weight, but the condition of it all didn’t inspire me to try.

          Sveta, however, could still get along with crawling on her hands and knees. I watched with bated breath as she made her attempt. Surprisingly – she did it! The waifish girl pressed herself against the wall like a cat, traversing the gap without so much as a crumb of the tunnel falling away underneath her. Such a thing was remarkably simple, for once.

          As for me, I did a number of mental calculations. I was careful not to make a stupid decision based on delirium, but I found that there was no other option than _down;_ I’d have to jump into the hole. With the distance across being more than a few meters, I would never be able to jump to the other side; I was no Lara Croft.

          From the looks of things, there was enough rubble at the bottom to where I could pile up debris and climb back out fairly easily. The initial drop would be significant, but manageable. Hopefully.

          Sitting at the hole’s edge, I talked myself up to the task, recalling how I’d fallen further distances when I was a kid, off the roof of my family home. Back then, I was quite the climber of trees, and would venture onto the roof with my BB gun to shoot at quails and woodland animals for thrills. Sometimes, gravity would get the upper hand on my foolhardy self.

          As I finally made the plunge, it seemed as though it would happen that way again; my shoes sank into loose piles of dirt and rocks that crumbled underfoot as I landed, forcing me to topple forward and effectively eat shit. Luckily, that was the extent of my mishap, but I still made a foul-mouthed exclamation as I did so.

          “Brion!” Sveta peered down from where she was, just barely visible in the dim tunnel lighting. Her voice was shaken with anxiety, alarmed at what she’d heard.

          “It’s okay. _I’m_ okay. Damn…” I righted myself and took a moment to free each of my feet, scattering dirt everywhere, but especially down my shoes.

          “Don’t scare me like that!”

          Frowning, I found my way to more stable ground and took some time to reconnoiter, aiming my flashlight in a full arc.

          To my amazement, I’d dropped down into what looked to be an extensive series of mine tunnels underneath the forgotten fallout bunker. “This place sure has a busy history.” I mumbled aloud. I spoke a little louder. “Hey, maybe this could lead out. Whaddya think?”

          She looked down at me, surveying what little she could make out from her vantage point. She morosely shook her head.

          A part of me wanted to try and convince her otherwise; the tunnels above were a seemingly endless labyrinth, with hallways that would sometimes turn back on each other in a Lovecraftian fashion. Mines, on the other hand, were made more for utility – in and out. If these had been made logically, it was possible to have several ways to exit. That was, of course, if such routes hadn’t collapsed or been blasted shut.

          My mind caught on that detail: the mines could have been blasted shut. Soviet bureaucracy may not have given a damn about who would turn up in a place like this, leaving everything wide open, but there was no way for us to know. The stale, unmoving air also told me that testing my theories could easily lead to our end. We could run out of oxygen, hurt ourselves on the unstable ground and, of course, become eternally lost where nobody would bother to look for us. Game over.

          I played my flashlight beam over old, cracking wood framing and bolstering on the walls, along endless lengths of iron rail for mine carts. I prayed sincerely that Miku hadn’t come this way. I couldn’t picture her as a girl who could even handle the concrete tunnels. Being down in an old, abandoned mine with only one shoe and her wits may as well have been a death sentence.

          “Screw it.” I said to myself. I began to look for things that I could stack up to make my exit. Just as I did, the lights above dimmed to a dark sepia one last time, then finally died for good.

          The generator had blessed us with light for quite some time, but all good things come to an end. We would be navigating with one light between us from here on out. Worse, now I was down below it all, and I still had busywork to attend to.

          Looking back up, I could see Sveta peering down. Now with pitch darkness around her, more or less alone in the labyrinth, I could see her begin to shake uncontrollably.

          “You alright?” I asked.

          She shook her head profusely, looking as though she were about to climb down to me, regardless of the danger. “ _Blyat…_ Please… please get back up here. As soon as you can…”

          I nodded, wishing that we hadn’t left the pipe back at the bottom of that ladder; our only means of defense had to be abandoned in order to make the climb. With me being as far down as I was, she would be easy pickings if somehow, inexplicably, Shurik or something else came along. “I’m coming. Stay right where you are. Hold on, okay?”

          “Hurry.” While she began to sob and babble to herself, I scrambled to gather whatever I set my eyes on, whatever looked stable to enough to make a pile out of.

          There were a few broken planks, along with some large chunks of broken concrete lying about. It took a minute or two of frantic work, but I was able to craft a hinky arrangement that would give me enough of a boost to grab hold of rusty, twisted rebar that hung down like jagged, bloody fingers from above. 

          It took several tries, my strength surely at a minimum, but I was able to scratch my way up, finally depositing myself next to Svetlana, who was scrunched up against the wall, holding her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. I breathlessly settled onto my back, clutching the flashlight to my chest, then handed it over to her.

          She gladly snatched the source of light away, cradling it with all of her might. She seemed rather bitter at our situation, muttering obscenities under her breath, cursing the lights, the generator, and life in general.

          “You alright?” I asked again.

          “Do you really have to ask?” she sourly retorted, burying her face in her knees.

          “No, I don’t _have_ to, but I want to…” Through sheer tiredness, I was about to unleash a deluge of smart-assery. However, I knew neither of us would have the patience for it. We were both getting snippy. “Know what? Forget it.”

          I sat up, tugging each of my Chucks off of my feet to empty them of sand and pebbles. I realized how filthy I was; hadn’t been that way in ages. If we made it out alive, Lena would certainly be unhappy with my ruining yet another uniform.

_Priorities, idiot. Think about priorities._

          Tugging at my pant leg, Svetlana shined the light toward me, her face expressing a meekness, like that of a small child looking for forgiveness.

          “I’m not mad,” I reassured her, shaking my shoes out and pulling them hastily back on. “Just… very, very tired. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep standing up.”

          The girl nodded weakly. “I'm unsure how much more I can take, either. I can scarcely feel the pain anymore. But… I feel as though my legs may give out completely. I’m numb from the knee down.”

          “We can stop.” I offered. “I know it’s not the best place, but we could try to get at least a little sleep.”  I didn’t like the sound of it, but we’d dug our graves long before by leaving our safe haven. It was a choice that I’d been regretting – a choice that she made, but I was complicit. I couldn’t bring myself to start blaming her.

          She shook her head, still as stubborn as ever. “No. I don’t wish to do that here. Let’s keep going.” Unfolding herself, she shifted until she was on her knees, doing her best to look strong and confident, although I could tell she was barely able to stay upright. “I… I think we’re headed the correct way. We shouldn’t give up now.”

          Standing up and feeling my muscles crying in protest, I sighed lightly. “I swear… when we get back, I’m going to tell Electronik to attach electrodes to you. They could power the robot from your tenacity alone.”

          She smiled, my little joke restoring her mood for a brief moment.

          That portion of joy was interrupted by something flying past her head. I ducked instinctively, feeling the object pass me by with only centimeters to spare. It was something metallic, hitting the tunnel beyond us with a clang.

          Falling toward me, Svetlana shined the flashlight back across the tunnel at Shurik. He stood at the opposite side of the chasm, his cracked glasses now a monocle as he seemed to snarl at us, his uniform damn near in tatters. He’d certainly gone through his own bit of hell over the course of the night.

          Picking up small chunks of cracked cement to throw at us, most of his serves going wide, he screamed at us at the top of his lungs. “I was out!!! I made it out and I want it all _BACK!!!”_

          I shielded Sveta from the barrage, gauging our options. We had the only light source, giving us the upper hand. We could disappear into the darkness fairly easily. I looked to her. “Should we reason?”

          I expected her to say yes, a response rooted in the knowledge of our fellow pioneer’s mental state. It was for sure that I’d passed the point for negotiations long ago, and our budding psychologist could talk some sense into him.

          However, she clutched at me, digging her nails into my shirt, terror in her eyes. “ _Debil,_ are you crazy? Let’s run!” she cried.

          No argument needed. We lurched forward, away from the collapse and into the safety of darkness.

          Panic had given us an extra surge of energy, and while limping away, something hard underfoot rolled, causing the both of us to trip and collapse in a heap.

          “ _Fuck!”_ I exclaimed, banging a fist on the concrete. _“_ Just once, for once...!”

          Crying and disoriented, Sveta grabbed the flashlight she’d dropped, which was now flickering. _Not this, too!_ She slapped it with her palm, luckily bringing it back to life.

          My head was spinning as I looked for whatever it was that had caused our fall. Something glinted, something familiar: the pipe. Shurik had found our discarded weapon, had thrown it at us in his rage. I quickly took hold of it, and not a moment too soon, as I laid eyes on his silhouette making its way across the pit.

          As the light hit him, I could see that he was clinging to the wall like a spider, doing exactly what I’d chosen not to; he was using the old, fraying electrical cables to cross over to us at some great speed. They twanged and snapped with every fervent motion he made.

          “Shit, shit!” I said, fighting my way to my feet. He was nearly across, laughing as he progressed. The cables in his hands stressed and stretched.

          “Do something!” Svetlana shrieked.

          Panic led to a gut reaction, a decision made in the firing of a synapse. I used the pipe as a makeshift axe, smashing away at the cables near us. After a few solid strikes, they yielded and failed, already damaged, worn-down and stressed beyond design.

          With his only handholds whipping away from him, Shurik waved his arms to stabilize himself on the narrow walkway. He nearly succeeded, suspended almost like a cartoon character in midair before plummeting into the hole with a scream.

          The sound of his impact down below shattered my composure, and my blood ran cold. _“I just killed him.”_ I thought. _“I’m a murderer."_

          After that, I could hear no sound, save for my own heavy breath and the pounding in my ears from the concussion. Sweat began to trickle down my face, and I took a hard gulp; it sounded like a kick drum inside my skull.

          “Sh… Shurik?” Sveta quietly crept forward on her hands and knees toward the edge of the hole, her voice delicate and frail like that of a mouse.

          “I didn’t mean to, Sveta.” I heard myself say, close to breaking down. I felt beside myself, like I was merely spectating on the scene, not living my own life at that moment. “You saw… he wanted to hurt us. He was trying all night.”

          In hindsight, Sveta only had my account of the previous events; she’d gone catatonic in that little room hours before, likely having no recollection. This could all work against me in the worst way.

          I joined her at the side of the hole, kneeling down beside her. “I’m so sorry… God, I’m so sorry…” I babbled.

          She hadn’t looked down yet, just sat there, shaking her head as she sobbed. “It isn’t your fault.” She spoke in a near whisper.

          We both tried to fight for composure, but the real task lay below; one of us would have to take a look.

          I pulled the flashlight from her hands, dutifully choosing to see the damage I’d done. “You might not want to remember this.”

          Tentatively, I made my way to the very edge and shined the light down into the mine. Almost immediately, Shurik’s body came into my view, lying motionless across the iron tracks below. He wasn’t moving, nor making a sound. He'd landed his back, facing straight up, arms at his sides.

          Immediately, thoughts of what would happen if we made it back to camp came flooding into my head. Olga Dmitrievna surely wouldn’t forgive this, even if it were a clear-cut case of self defense. I wouldn’t be able to explain any of it to anyone, especially not to a government official. The true international incident, a crime that could lead to a war.

          “I should go… down there. I need to see.” I told her, making to drop down as I had before.

          “ _Nyet._ Don’t.” She grabbed strongly onto my wrist, the power in her nimble fingers surprising me. “What would there be to do?”

          “He might not be dead yet. His heart could still be ticking away.” I tried to shake loose from her, but her grip was like iron. “I’ve got to do something to help. Anything. Let me go!”

          She held on to my wrist with both hands, pulling desperately. “Don’t do it!”

          Suddenly, from below, a groan could be heard. It was deep, crackly in timbre. Goosebumps wracked every inch of my skin as I wondered what kind of wild beast had happened upon this scene, casting its eyes on the fresh body laying below like an offering.

          It took a few seconds to realize that it was Shurik. He hadn’t punched out yet. He coughed, moved his arms, and lifted his head to look up at the light. His eyes were glassy, unfocused through his ruined glasses as he reached up toward us. “Mama? Is that you?” he asked.

          I shook away from Svetlana once more, looking her straight in the eyes. “I have to. Stay here with the light.”

          Sniffling, tears dripping down her cheeks, she shook her head profusely and grabbed me by the shoulders, her voice ragged and frantic. “No! You can't! You shouldn't trust him!”

          The groan from below grew louder, and I desperately tried to convince Sveta otherwise. Her fear was understandable. I wouldn't want to be in her place, but leaving Shurik down there to suffer surely couldn't be the way to go. "How do you know? Maybe he's snapped out of whatever got into him. We should find out."

          "You don't... it doesn't work that way!" She was persistent, crying in a state of hysteria that could easily be seen as the bigger problem. She held her breath, attempting to form her words in an intelligent way, making her face turn purple. "A manic state doesn't go in and out. Until he is isolated from the stimuli, he will revert..."

          She breathed heavily, not able to get the rest of her explanation through, but I was close to understanding; as long as Shurik was anywhere near what set him off, he'd be a threat to us, just as he was at the old camp as night fell.

          I decided it would be best to acquiesce. If anything, just to keep Sveta from crying herself to death. "Okay, okay. I'll stay right here with you But we should at least try to talk him through."

          As we looked down again, fear struck both of us like a bat to the head; Shurik had gone from a prone, pained position to standing proudly, staring up at us. It was like he was possessed by a demon; how had he not been immobilized by such a fall? How could he get up so quickly?

          “Very good!” He shouted, pointing accusingly at both of us with a hand that shook with fury. “Very good! Your lies and deceit serve you… again!” He paced back and forth, kicking at rocks. He picked several up and threw them at us. “I still know who you are! I know what you do! You won’t get away with any of it! Not this time! I know where you're going, what you're planning!”

          He ran into the darkness then, down into the mines, babbling and rambling, singing a pioneer song to himself at the top of his lungs. No light, no map… what the hell? How could he possibly navigate through any of it? What could he possibly hope to achieve?

          Still frantic and crying, Sveta buried her face in my neck, pulling me away from the pit as the commotion down below faded back to grim silence. “We have to go…”

          I was still locked in shock and disbelief. Insanity. That was all I could see in Shurik’s actions, in this entire night in the catacombs. I began to doubt myself, wondering if I was going off the deep end and just didn’t know it yet. His words… what did any of them mean?

          “I know we do.” I replied, my voice trembling. “We’re going to get out of here. Just… give me a moment.”

          I stood, leaving her to sit for a minute or two while I paced the hallway, collecting myself. Disbelief, fear, despair… these things were a factor for all of us. I realized just how likely it was to be lost in my own head. For all I knew, I was the only crazy person in the place. What if our entire journey, everything I'd experienced in this night, had simply been a delusion? Could I trust my own eyes? My own brain?

          I took in breath after breath of stale air, then picked up the pipe where I’d dropped it, coming back to Sveta, who’d managed to pull herself together, wiping away her tears with a filthy hand, holding the flashlight in the other. She looked up at me, her eyes showing the same fear and doubt that I felt in every part of my body.

          “Let’s get back to camp.” I told her, reaching down and pulling her to her feet. I put my arm back around her, intent on resuming our painful walk – to get us away from the pit, from Shurik, from the god-awful mess that had trapped us underground for far too long.

          “Are you alright?” she asked meekly, arm over my shoulder, lips an inch from my ear.

          I thought about it as we moved down the hallway, briefly shaking my head. “I don’t know. Would I know it if I’d lost my own mind?”

          She thought about it, and I felt her smile. “You haven’t lost your mind.”

          “How do you know?”

          “If you had, would you still have me here to tell you otherwise?”

          “Of course!” I replied. “My mind would do its best to keep me blind to the fact that I’ve lost it.”

          “Well then… if that’s the case, you’ve lost your mind. You should be locked up. No more society for you!”

          I had to laugh then. Good old Sveta, proving herself to be a master of wordplay. “Thank you. That actually helps.”

* * *

          We continued our trek.  Along the way, we each did our part to keep one another grounded, knowing that doing so was not just a breaker of boredom, but a matter of survival.

          “What are you going to do when we get back to camp?” I asked.

          “Sleep.” She answered plainly. “And then… eat. Then sleep again.”

          Her answer went in line with about ninety-five percent of humanity, but I could understand the sentiment. It was a lovely prospect. “Sounds good.”

          “What about you?” I felt her turn her toward me, brushing my cheek with her bangs.

          “Well, let’s see… once I answer to Olga Dmitrievna about the stunt I pulled, probably sleep. Maybe get sent back home. I’m honestly not sure.”

          “She’d send you home?” She asked.

          “She wouldn’t?”

          The girl sounded annoyed. “Are you asking a question?”

          I gritted my teeth. “Never mind. I’m just being facetious.”

          “What’s that?”

          “It’s when you’re being sarcastic and funny, even though things are very, very bad.”

          She took a moment to think about that. “Is that what you call ‘Gallows Humor’?”

          I nodded. “That’s right. I’m guessing you heard that on the radio…”

          Sveta seemed to brighten a bit, hopping along on her good foot for a moment or two. “I did! How did you know?”

          “Your brother mentioned something about listening to jokes on the radio. I figured you two would probably listen together.”

          “It’s hard.” She shifted off balance again, burying her chin into my shoulder blade as she corrected her motion. “Such programs don’t come through often, but we work on the equipment together at home and at camp. We hear things from the West from time to time. Finland, Latvia…”

          She trailed off. Obviously, her mind wanted to dwell on brighter and better things than what we were enduring at the moment. A warm memory of her brother and working with electronic components; a happy place to escape to.

          “Honestly, I don’t know what Olga’s going to do to me.” I sighed in disgust, a happy place not availing itself to me at the moment. “I guess hours ago, I didn’t really give a shit. I wanted to help and couldn’t see what her problem was. ‘International incident’, I was told. Since when should anyone be threatened for trying to do the right thing?”

          “What was that I heard… ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’ Would that be right?” she wittingly asked.

          “ _Correctamundo._ ” I was sure that my usage and inflection would be lost on her – _Pulp Fiction_ wouldn’t be known for a number of years, even. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s ever been faced with moral dilemma. But you know… even if you live with regret, you die with it too. May as well get it over with.”

          We went silent for a while after that, the tunnels continuing to be an exercise in mundanity. A match of endurance that, despite what we’d been through, refused to stop beating both of us to a pulp. When we’d had working lights, the tunnels were merely massive in scale; now, in the dark, they seemed eternal. My legs were beginning to go numb, and my feet were rebelling against me.

          I couldn’t think of anything to restart a conversation, so I turned to memories, hoping that by briefly burying myself in my own head, I wouldn't unhinge myself from the current reality.

          I pictured my hikes back home. On one such occasion, I was returning to my car on a night that was unseasonably cold – near freezing. I’d journeyed and climbed up and down a considerable foothill – a large landmark for the desert – and was left with finishing a twenty kilometer round trip in near-complete darkness.

          Walking on old access roads through the night, there was nobody out there but me, the small creatures that dwelled in the wasteland brush, and my imagination playing tricks, as always.

          That imagination had me wishing that, somehow, I could give up; like someone who was about to go on a roller coaster, but suddenly lost their nerve and wanted to chicken out, be taken off before the rough part would start. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

          Therein lay the problem; when you’re the one at the controls of the ride, practically built the roller coaster yourself, who’s going to be the one to come out and get you? Your chauffeur is yourself. Responsibility, your own neck – rests on your shoulders. 

          If I didn’t put one foot in front of the other and keep going, what then? Would I have laid down and slept in the cold? Find a cave and huddle up? All because I wanted to quit when I still had energy to simply _walk_?

          Those memories helped me to at least try. Normally those times would be thought of as meaningless to the big picture, but it had all been a primer for now. I had to help Sveta, look after her, even if it meant that I wouldn’t be following her. And Miku, whenever the hell it would be that we’d find her.

          As always, there still loomed the possibility that we wouldn’t make it out. By some stretch of horrible luck, we could run out of energy, food, or water. It was also likely that one of us would make an error and injure ourselves. And if Shurik were to find us again, I could only hope that he wasn’t faring much better than we.

          My mind went back to the camp, to everyone I’d met in my time here. Would I ever see Slavya again? Or Lena? The little fireball, Ulyana? Would I never get punched in the arm repeatedly by _Dva-Cheh_ ever again? Leer down the nurse’s top one last time?

 _“Good God, get ahold of yourself, for fuck’s sake!”_ I thought, shaking my head. _“Of all the important things, you’re thinking about boobs. Well, actually… carry on. Time well-spent.”_

          For once, my scumbag brain was working in my favor, providing me with an escape to my own happy place, all that I really had: the pioneers, the camp, and godly cleavage. It made me hold on to hope and Svetlana just a bit tighter. We _had_ to make it out. We had to make it back.

* * *

          “How much further?” Sveta broke the silence with the million-dollar question some time later. I was surprised that she hadn't asked it a hundred times before that. We'd been walking so long that even I was beginning to feel pain in every joint, as though I’d collapse at any moment.

          I could only shrug. “Wish I could say. Hopefully… right around the corner.”

          As she pointed the flashlight ahead of us, I could see a literal corner coming up at the far end of the tunnel. I’d jinxed us – hopefully in the right way.

          We cautiously turned to face the new stretch of hallway, and the flashlight’s beam hit a massive door a few meters down, a worn and faded radiation warning sticker on it.

          We’d finally made some progress. If not, this could at least be a place to hole up for the rest of the night. That would have to be the final decision; we couldn’t carry on, no matter how determined either of us were.

          Leading up to the door, it looked like the dust on floor had been disrupted recently. Someone had surely been through here. A closer look revealed the door to be slightly ajar, and beyond it, light could be seen glowing; power! The next room had lights and power! It was hard not to feel elated at that moment.

          However, elation mixed with caution; I could hear voices beyond. They were very faint through the thick steel, but there was no mistaking human voices speaking. It was hard to make out any words, but I was sure that I wasn’t imagining it.

          “What should we do?” Svetlana whispered, gripping me more tightly; she heard the voices as well.

          “We see who it is.” I mumbled, calculating scenarios. It sounded like there were at least two people in there. Unless somebody was having a conversation with him or herself… scary thought, but par for the course with this place.

          “But… what if they’re not friendly? What if they’re Gopniks? The people who looted the other place?” Sveta seemed rather concerned at the possibilities.

          I’d heard the word “Gopnik” before in passing – from Zhenya and Alisa, if memory served me – but didn’t quite understand the meaning. Still, if Sveta was concerned about it, I had no reason not to be.

          “Then… they’d best be ready.” I carefully helped her to stand against the nearby wall. “Stand back, and…  well, we’ll see.”

          She nodded and clutched the flashlight tightly, doing her best to stay up on her one good ankle. “Be careful.”

          Bringing the length of pipe back into play, I took a couple of steady breaths, preparing myself. The voices continued, no clearer than they’d been, even as I approached and put my ear to the door. My first thought was to bang on the steel, give whoever was inside a chance to turn tail.

          I then reconsidered, knowing that such a move would also give them the opportunity to jump us both. And if Shurik were anywhere nearby…

          I clenched my teeth, counted to three, then gave the door a solid push with my foot.

          I expected it to simply swing open, but to my surprise, it had actually been pried off its hinges at some time in the past, merely propped against the frame. My action sent it falling into the room, and it slammed down onto the concrete with an explosive bang that made my ears ring. It was quite startling; I wasn’t expecting such volume.

          The sound jarred something loose in my brain, and I charged forward, the element of surprise suddenly seeming the best and only option on the table.

          We weren’t the only ones caught off-guard; a mere meter away stood Zhenya, whose eyes were as wide as dinner plates as the door passed not even an arm’s length away from her. She backpedaled as she fixated on the figure holding a bludgeon who’d just burst in.

          Beside a bunk bed, Miku was nearly in tears at my sudden entrance, her eyes going practically white, muttering only a short non-committal. She collapsed backward into a fetal position on the dusty mattress, trembling.

          Directly to my right, almost in the same position to get creamed by the falling door, was Lena. She looked visibly alarmed, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. Her feet were shifted into a nimble stance to run – in which direction was anyone’s guess. In her hands was a flashlight, and she looked just as ready as I was to swing away, depending on the target.

          Zhenya flattened against a wall, composure faltering, a flashlight in her hands shaking profusely. “Brion…” she spoke softly. As she got a further grip on the scenario, she seemed to kick everything into another gear, her face immediately flushing red with rage. “What are you trying to do, kill somebody?”

          “Honey, I’m home?” I asked, my own sarcasm confusing my just as much as it made sense of things.

 

 _Home._ We’d seen each other at the height of rage and pettiness, rendering one another as mortal enemies, the last people to find that connection of comfort and safety in. And yet…

          I could look at Zhenya and feel that I’d come full circle. Lena, Miku… the familiar uniforms of pioneers. The heavy stares I’d grown accustomed to.

          Home felt like it was just around the corner.


	29. Legends

          By the time we made it above ground, the sky was turning a hue of violet. The sun would be rising soon. Wisps of cloud stretched like fingers above us, signaling the start of a new day.

          A new day. I’d surely be seeing another. As the four of us helped to level the green military cot that we were using as a stretcher for Sveta, we met with a noticeable chill in the air, and dew on the leaves of every tree and bush. It felt as though autumn were upon us.

          However, this could only be a brief respite. Summer was far from being over. I took it as mother nature welcoming all of us back to a world of light and color.

          “Let’s get going. It’s a long way back.” Zhenya urged, shifting the weight of the backpack on her shoulders as she took hold of one corner. Somehow it was deigned that she be next to me. Miku took the rear with Lena.

          Down in the abandoned command center, the girls did their best to patch up Sveta and me, while relaying their side of things – Others were either asleep or biting their fingernails in suspense back at camp, but the two most bookish girls had dared strike out on their own, with hopes of recovering the visiting ambassador at any cost.

          Time was of the essence; we had to make it back before Olga Dmitrievna woke up, before she could get her hands on a car and make a trip into town to call the police, and effectively arrange for me to be expedited back home.

          I still didn’t know what to think of any of it; I’d woken up as a drunk outside of the camp the previous week, was bestowed with some sort of title, but I knew nothing of the role. In this place, this rift in time, it was made to sound as though I’d had coffee with "The Gipper", Reagan, on the regular. I was here for a specific reason, even if that reason was continuing to elude me.

          On top of that, the girls had taken a gamble; they knew nothing more about the tunnels than anyone else, yet still put themselves at risk. Such altruism could almost be expected from Lena, but I couldn’t stomach the fact that a girl who swore her hatred for me had gone to such lengths herself.

          That being said, we refused to make eye contact, let alone communicate directly. We set out to the north, taking our sides of the stretcher while ignoring each other’s presence.

          The way we’d come had proven to be too much of a challenge while carrying such a load. However, the old road leading to the abandoned camp was still usable, with a connection to the main road, which in turn would bring us back home. We’d have to navigate through thick undergrowth and trees that had fallen over past decades, but it was the better option.

          Despite the wobbles – my legs feeling like jelly from sleep deprivation – I did the best I could to hold my end of the stretcher as Sveta blissfully dozed. No more walking for her; Zhenya had braced her injuries rather skillfully, wrapping her ankles in proper dressings. Of course, I had to endure being chewed out for my coffee table knowledge of first-aid. I still felt I’d done alright; Sveta had been mobile for hours with what I’d put together.

          As the four of us walked, the lush green that normally made up the woods gave way to trees of a mottled gray color, their limbs barren, jutting from the ground like skeletal fingers. Many were hollowed-out trunks, cracked and split apart by some great force.

          Above our heads, ranks of crows were perched. They cawed sharply, signaling our presence in their territory. Sections of the ground were devoid of grass and undergrowth, with occasional puddles filled with muddy water. With everything turning several shades of apocalyptic, I began to wonder if I was having hallucinations. Such a place like this was a stark contrast to the woods I’d grown accustomed to.

          I wasn’t the only one feeling spooked by our surroundings; Miku was trembling, the shaking in her hands translating through the stretcher. The poor girl hadn’t spoken at all since my dramatic entrance from earlier, and before that, she’d spent an entire day and night alone in the old command center. She’d had nothing to eat but stale rations, no gear to equip herself with, and could do nothing but sit and wait for somebody to get her.

          Our eyes met, and it seemed to ease her nerves, but only slightly. I never thought I’d say it, but seeing her any other way than her usual carefree and talkative self was rather disconcerting.

          “It’s going to be okay,” Lena said, taking account of all of our collective nervousness. For once, she seemed the most stable out of any of us.

          “What’s with this place?” I presented my question to the air, but with how the silence lingered, bouncing from person to person, there was no mistaking who I was really asking. The other girls seemed to want the answer as well, focusing their eyes toward the librarian, who was doing everything in her power to act like she hadn’t heard me.

          “This was… from the war. The Great Patriotic War, what you would call World War II. I’m sure you’ve heard about Sergey Chekhov by now, right?” She obviously couldn’t resist the opportunity to lecture, and did so in a pointedly pompous manner.

          I nodded, recalling the brief history lesson I’d received from my group when all of this had started. “Pioneer legend. Something about single-handedly fighting Nazis?”

          “Yes and no.” She replied, munching on her lower lip. “Nazis, yes, but he didn’t do it single-handedly. He and a few others had weapons, while everybody else did their best to help sabotage the enemy troops. The ones that couldn’t, they hid in the bunkers.”

          I began to conjure a picture of young kids – teens, preteens, wearing uniforms similar to ours, keeping themselves hidden in the old building when it was in better shape. I could almost hear the crackle of gunfire and snapping of tree branches, the rumble of Panzer tanks as divisions led by Rommel – was it Rommel? – made their way through the remote Russian territories.

          Meanwhile, a few boys, maybe a girl or two… were out in these very woods, using the trees and greenery for cover, waiting for the right moment to launch an ambush; a true David vs Goliath scenario, where the odds were more than unfairly stacked against the young Soviets.

          “Must have been a hell of thing.” I remarked. “I was telling Sveta… this place has had a busy history. We saw the mine tunnels.”

          “Those go all the way under camp, you know. You could have followed them back.” Zhenya informed me glumly.

          “Didn’t want to risk it. Not with her injured like that.”

          She nodded vaguely. “Anyhow… the Nazis had all but ignored the camp on their first run through, during the invasion. Some say only a few really knew the camp was there at all.

          “It became isolated, all but cut off from the rest of the Motherland. One can only wonder what their plans were for an entire camp of youths, or when the Germans would enact them.

          “Anyhow… It was when they were returning… Retreating, rather… that they implemented a policy of ‘Scorched Earth’. They looked at the pioneers as an essential resource to be destroyed… to cripple the country’s ability to rebuild, and break morale. Imagine how many parents would have been devastated by losing their children.”

          “Damn, that’s pretty cold.”

          “So, they tried to destroy everything they could on their way out. Their aim was to turn this whole forest into firewood, and I’ll tell you… my studies show that they treated Soviet prisoners of war like utter cattle. Absolutely merciless.”

          The topic seemed to get Zhenya rather heated, and through my delirium, it didn’t sound like a wholesome heat in the slightest. There was some sort of reactor burning deep inside that tea kettle as her skin turned red and her breath started to shorten.

          “So now there’s Comrade Chekhov with his rifle…” I prompted her along.

          “There were traps set by pioneers. Snares, trenches, obstacles for vehicles…. They had been using that time in isolation to prepare themselves. It was… still is… one of the greatest parts of this camp’s history, and ultimately Sovyonok’s history.” She gritted her teeth, growling. “Everybody put themselves on the line, and we gave our lives to protect the Motherland…”

          Her voice had become progressively louder, spooking the crows out of the trees. I hadn’t been expecting her to go nuclear about this place. I’d dealt with one lunatic too many already. “Hey now…”

          “We stood our ground against the fascist pigs and chased them all the way back to Berlin!” Zhenya continued, curling the fingers of her right hand and popping her eyes like a villain relishing a crushing siege. She shouted at the top of her lungs. “ **Chekhov and the blood of his seventeen confirmed kills lives on in the veins of these lands!** ”

          The librarian had effectively blown her top, acting like a damned fool! There went all of the crows, fluttering out of the trees in a panic.

          I was given the unique opportunity to see the faces of all the others – Lena, Miku, even Sveta – in their unique expressions of imminent murderous intent. “Hey! Inside voices!” I hissed. “What if a bear or a wolf hears you?”

          Lena smiled politely, doing her best to smooth things over with infectious sweetness. “There actually aren’t any…”

          Like flipping a switch, Zhenya broke out of her façade and stared at me mildly, tilting an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m _trying_ to illustrate the struggle, the power of spirit. The pathos. Don’t you have any knowledge of theatre? Didn’t your teachers read to you as a child?”

          “Of course they did!” I answered, hopping around a rock in the path that had almost tripped me. “Even so, that’s a little over the top, isn’t it?”

          She looked away, shyly pressing her hair-antenna down with a palm of her hand. “Well, nobody’s scared now, right?” Faltering, she likewise did her best to smooth out this peculiar moment. “You’re all only angry, which is something I can live with. My work here is done.”

          While the librarian was comfortable with the idea of easing into early literary spinsterhood, she still sounded like she’d surely blown a gasket, especially with how she nonchalantly played the whole moment off as an eccentric ruse.

          After that, we all adopted a policy of silence as we made our way through the remnants of scorched earth. Apparently, none of us had been faring well when it came to sleep, and losing ourselves to a competition of who could be grumpiest simply couldn’t be allowed.

          Eventually, moss began to reappear underfoot, mother nature coming in to erase her scars of manmade devastation. The trees became whole and full of life once more, and the crows disappeared, replaced by nightingales, chirping their nocturne lightly overhead.

          And in front of us, a guardrail could be spotted in the distance, a curve in the lonely two-lane highway – a term that I used very lightly – that would bring us back. We’d passed another hurdle.

          I shifted the weight of the stretcher, tried to shake a bit of the tired energy out of my shoulders, and noticed the weight of the radio on my left; indeed, I’d somehow kept it with me all through the night, seeing it as useless in the tunnels but still an essential tool, one that simply could not be discarded.

          Keeping the box on my shoulder, I absently twisted the different knobs and spoke awkwardly into the microphone. “CQ, CQ…” I flinched at my clumsy attempt to sound official. “Can anyone out there hear me? Electronik? Olga Dmitrievna?”

          I tried several times, making adjustments as I went. I knew that reaching anybody would be a long shot, but there was still hope…

          “Hello?” A girl’s voice broke through, which was a surprise to us all. She became clearer as I locked in on the frequency. “Who’s there?”

          She sounded familiar; Ulyana? What was she doing up at this hour? Even more so, listening in? “Hey.” I keyed the radio a couple of times. “Is that who I think it is?”

          “It is, stupid!” There was a slight laugh her statement, one that made me smile uncontrollably. I’d all but forgotten about my red-headed partner in crime.

          “We’re on our way back.” I informed her, trying to downplay the excitement in my voice. It still seemed a good idea to stay cautious. “Everyone’s alive. We’re coming to the front gates of camp.”

          “I’ll meet you there!” She sounded much more excited in comparison. “I’m right here in the robot lab!”

          “Alone?”

          “…no!” I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. Of course, the boys wouldn’t have let her in there alone, but it was hard to really know.

          “Hello?!” Ivan’s voice crashed through on the speaker, making everyone jolt. “Do… do you have my sister with you? Do you have her?!?”

          The boy sounded thoroughly unhinged. It was enough to make Sveta furrow her brow and rub her eyes fussily, breaking out of her sleep yet again.

          “She’s fine. We have her. We’re bringing her back. Listen, we need favors.”

          As we reached the side of the road, the sound of an approaching engine in the distance made all of us freeze. As far out as we were, this early in the morning…

          Hell, a vehicle was a vehicle! Even better, it sounded like a truck of some sort. The kind that could possibly take us right to our doorstep!

          “We might hitch a ride. Listen… make sure that Olga Dmitrievna doesn’t go anywhere.” I dictated. “Whatever distraction you can put together with Ulyana there, do it. Do whatever you can. Buy us some time.”

          As I let go of the key, the unit seemed to have gone dead. No sound came from the radio at all.

          “Hello? He…”

          Zhenya shook her side of the stretcher, getting my attention. I looked ahead, combing the road to see the source of the approaching engine.

          We waited and waited, expecting whatever it was to appear around the bend…

          …And it did, scaring the wits out of all of us. A bus, boastfully red in color, materialized from behind a bend in the road, its engine now blaringly loud as it made its way straight toward us. It was hauling ass.

          “Oh, thank you!” Zhenya raised an arm and cheerfully waved at it, pulling us all toward the road’s edge.

          As the bus approached, I could see that it was oddly new. There wasn’t a scratch in the paint, and despite the condition of the road in front of us, there wasn’t a spot of mud on the tires. It seemed as bright as a matador’s cape in the sun; an _Icarus_. A typical motor coach, I imagined… but to see anything so pristine out here didn’t seem right. Instinct was telling me not to see it as welcoming.

          Especially as it didn’t slow down for us at all, but seemed to speed up even more as it approached. The road in front of us curved, but the bus was drifting closer and closer to the side, its tires leaving the pavement.

          “ _Urod_ _Blyad!”_

          I wasn’t sure who yelled it; likely, we all did in unison as everyone abandoned the roadside, running with the stretcher and taking it down with us in a crash behind the guardrail.

          The fiery red contraption of death narrowly missed us, kicking up thick chunks of dirt as its tires chewed their way on and off the asphalt. The guardrail shrieked in a shower of sparks as the bus smashed against it, bolts showering as the material did its best to endure the load.

          The driver made a heavy turn to correct, causing the vehicle to lurch heavily from side to side as it regained the road, passing on into the distance. Almost as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, the roar of its engine fading into the morning.

          I’d managed to fall on my back, the stretcher landing mostly on top of me, a boulder resting right under my ass. I quickly checked myself, making sure that I hadn’t been hit by a piece of flying debris, and began to look after others.

          The only one not readily available was Zhenya, who was already on her feet and launching a string of obscenities that can still be heard echoing somewhere over the icy Siberian tundra. “ _Ty che, suka, o’khuel blya??!_ Piiiiz’dets....!”

          “Typical Russian driver?” I volunteered.

          She quickly spun around, her gaze hitting me with the force of an RPG, even with her glasses askew. She addressed me in English. “Shut up, asshole!”

          I shrugged, freeing myself from under the stretcher. “Been called worse.”

          Out of all of us, Sveta seemed the least bit effected, looking up at each of us with tired eyes. “He didn’t stop? Why?” she asked drowsily.

          “I don’t know,” I replied, looking down to her. “He was an anarchist. Saw us, wanted to stencil us on his bumper.”

          By now, Sveta and I were gaining an understanding of each other’s humor, as she simply smiled and closed her eyes, intent on closing the world out yet again.

          Zhenya continued to stomp about, understandably miffed; she’d landed in a patch of mud, making Lena the only one among us without a soiled uniform. Although, the look of terror in Lena’s eyes could have told a much different story in that regard. I digress.

          “What’s a bus doing all the way out here?” I asked.

          “What kind of question is that?” Zhenya continued to smack dirt off herself. “It stops at our camp. You should know. Didn’t you arrive on one?”

          “No…” I shook my head, combing my memory as deeply as I could. It seemed as though I’d fallen from the sky when I’d woken up in this place. “I don’t recall… I mean, the embassy car dropped me.”

          “Reeking of vodka, from what I remember. Whatever was the story of that?” she asked, now lowering her brows curiously. The other girls seemed just as keen on the topic as well. She was passively getting some sort of revenge on me; this wasn’t something I ever wanted advertised!

          “What can I say? The embassy sent me with all Russian guards. They liked to party hearty.”

          Only in sleep deprivation could I ever say something like that. It didn’t sound right at all to my ears, but everybody else seemed disarmed. “Oh, that would make sense.” Lena breathed a curious sigh of relief.

          “Anyhow,” Zhenya was quick to change the topic. “There’s a stop right outside of camp. It could have taken us right there.”

          “Would have been perfect.” I reached out to help a heavily shuddering Miku off the ground. Still remarkably quiet, she clutched my wrist with both hands, staying close to me as I continued to process what had just happened. I came to a sudden realization. “Wait, so it stops by the camp? That means…”

          “We’re out of time,” said Lena, sadness in her eyes. “If the camp leader gets on and goes to town to call our authorities…”

          Before she could finish her sentence, I dropped back down, clutching my corner of the stretcher to pick it up again. “We have time. We can still do this.”

          Zhenya looked at me with resignation, arms crossed. “Are you kidding? Did you see how fast he was driving? We’ll never make it before then.”

          “We don’t know that. We’re going, if only so I can kick his ass.”

          “Settle down.”

          Of all people to tell me that! I couldn’t help but to let out a breath of frustration. “You’re kidding. At a time like this, you’re just going to stand there?”

          I knew fully well that I was raising my voice again. I was beyond tired, beaten and bruised, and with the promise of making it back to camp seemingly like the proverbial carrot on a string, I simply couldn’t keep composure. The girls were seconds away from seeing a frightening part of me that select few had ever witnessed.

          The librarian turned away then, pressing her fingertips under her glasses, then hastily pulling them off. She was on the verge of tears. “Can I just have a minute?” she asked.

          My impatience flared, but I quickly doused my impulse. Perhaps it was best not to get on her case when she’d risked her neck to come rescue me, and had almost been flattened by a bus.

          We each took a brief time to collect ourselves, the sun now rising at our backs. The longer we sat, the more I felt the urge to succumb to sleep. I could just abandon all hope, wait to face punishment when the police came for me…

          I shook such notions out of my head, the sound of another approaching engine pulling me back to attention.

          Unlike last time, we stayed hidden in the tall grass, not sure if we’d become targets of yet another sadistic driver. Who knew the kinds of maniacs that could possibly be living out this way? It would explain all the camp’s walls.

          A huge white flatbed truck with wooden sides appeared, the driver upshifting to get the machine over a small incline in the road. The vehicle belched white smoke as it did so, its engine sounding appropriately worn.

          It didn’t share the pristine condition of the bus, that was for sure. This was just some random person, tooling along with a vehicle that would be of use to us if we played our cards right.

          The truck slowed, pulling toward the side of the road, brakes squeaking. As it came to an abrupt halt, loose bits of straw shook loose from the empty bed. We’d surely been spotted.

          Stepping out, the driver was an older man, nearly two meters tall and half as wide. He brushed his hands over a worn fishing vest and peered toward us, shielding his eyes from the rising morning sun.

          “P… Papa?” Zhenya spoke softly, barely audible over the anemic chugging of the truck’s engine. She came forward from our spot of refuge and was quickly crushed in a bear hug.

          This was the legendary – to me, at least – man who’d taken the tiny, prickly Zhenya on hunting trips, shot a deer one-handed while taking a piss. He looked almost as I’d pictured him in my mind, although there was very little resemblance between his daughter and him. He practically towered over her, and his graying hair resided more prominently on his chin than on top of his head.

          “What are you doing here?” Zhenya asked. “Parents’ Day isn’t for some time.”

          The man let his shoulders sink with a brief sigh, but it could be seen that he was a naturally jovial spirit. “Forgive me, my little lily. I have been called to another job, and I won’t be able to come visit with the other parents, again. So, ‘why not now?’ I thought! And imagine what I find on the side of the road!”

          As he said this, he looked toward those of us who’d stayed in cover, and were now standing bashfully. “Am I interrupting something with the one rooster here, surrounded by hens?”

 _“Never mind, this must be Dva-Cheh’s dad.”_ I thought, suddenly having a realization. “ _What if they’re sisters and I never noticed? Holy crap!”_ Obviously, delirium from lack of sleep was making my brain take a dirt road.

          “These are… a few of my friends,” Zhenya told him, quickly flashing a look toward us.

          “Friends?” The man approached and surveyed all of us. Upon his lingering gaze, Lena seemed keen on hiding herself behind me, where Miku had already decided to shield herself completely; never pictured her to be the shy type. “Your friends play odd games. Are you getting into your rebellious phase now?”

          Looking at us, I could see how our situation might look strange to a complete outsider; I was a guy beaten to crap, the only one among four girls, one of whom was lying unconscious on a portable bed.

          However, it quickly became apparent that his chiding humor wasn’t directed expressly at us, but toward his daughter. Zhenya fumed appropriately, spouting “I’m… not!”

          “So when, then?” He made her bristle with that one as he reached us, extending a hand to me. I shook it. “Is it true, _petushok_? I cannot decide to be offended or jealous! You’re a friend of my daughter?”

          A laugh. I actually had energy to laugh, it turned out. I tried to recall Alisa’s sarcastic answer from the other day, answering nearly in the same way. “We’re practically the best of friends now.”

          With his considerable height, none of us could truly hide from him. Looking over my shoulder, he took a good look at Lena, at Miku, at the prone and bandaged Sveta, then back to me. “What a time for you to be alive, young man.” He grinned gratuitously, but he spoke softly, in a truly unsettling manner. “Take care you don’t hurt my little girl… understand _?_ ”

          I got the message. As things had been, his commandments were very simple to follow. “Y-yes sir…”

          Quickly breaking the serious moment, his grin returned as he addressed his daughter. “Just as you mentioned in your letter, little lily. Yes, I always read the whole thing _;_ he certainly looks like trouble. I knew you’d rebel _sometime_ in your life.”

          I never thought I’d see someone’s face turn purple. She couldn’t even respond to him in an intelligent way, just turned into an angry grape and stomped away. Had she really written to her dad about me in the few days we’d spent together? What had she told him?

          “I don’t mean to be a bother, but we could really use a ride to camp.” I told him plainly, pulling us all back toward the task. “If you could help us, I could try to repay you…”

          He looked a bit offended. “Hey now, what would I be if I left any of you out here? You especially, with the bump on your head like that. Waste no time, boy!”

          Hastily, we were guided to the bed of the truck, where we loaded up our stretcher and piled in along with it, holding on tightly to whatever we could among stray bits of hay.

          Before long, the lumbering machine was making its way down the road, lurching with the curves, wind racing past us. It wasn’t a fast vehicle, but we’d get to camp before long.

          With Zhenya riding in the cab with her dad, I could see her through the window. She seemed troubled; through our talks, their relationship didn’t appear to be a very happy one. Her dad spent quite a lot of time on the road, away from home, out of her life. His spirit, though infectious, could also mean that he took few things seriously in life. I could see it in her eyes as they seemed to hold an intense conversation the entire way back.

          Sveta still slept peacefully, rocking back and forth to the jittery motions of the truck; Lena sat close to me, looking vigilantly over Miku, who was clutching one of my arms for dear life. It wasn’t the ideal method of being surrounded by girls, but who was I to complain?

          The road twisted on for a while. It felt like we were leaving a nightmare behind us, and I could sense drowsiness moving back in. It wouldn’t be long before I wouldn’t be able to function at all, succumbing to the needs of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through no less than five re-writes in the last couple of months. And ultimately, I showed how I can sometimes be about meeting consistent release deadlines. X-(
> 
> Several alternate scenarios went into the pickle jar, but I felt that this chapter worked best overall. It's also a great calm before the storm, as the chapter to follow is going to dwelve deeply in the "why" of everything, and it may be jarring from the tone that Redux has always had. I guess you could call it similar to "Miku's Route".
> 
> For those who may wonder, especially with the delay in releases, it isn't because I'm tired. I honestly don't think I could ever tire of what's become my biggest writing project to date.
> 
> That being said, I'm devoting more time toward developing the main plot lines that I've been brewing up since I started. Ways to keep this tale enjoyable and running for a long time into the future. Releases, at times, may lag a bit.
> 
> I appreciate all the support from readers, and I love that other writers have started to show up and expand the fandom. It's very encouraging to see thoughts, comments, and up-votes. It really does a lot to keep me going.
> 
> As this chapter is released on Christmas 2017, I hope all readers have a wonderful holiday (if reading this in the future, hope you had). And a prosperous new year to everyone in 2018.


	30. Hell's Motorcoach

** Chapter 30 - Hell's Motorcoach**

          I’ve never been one to have nightmares. Much less, someone to have them repeatedly.

          Sleep should be a sanctuary, an escape from real life. A place where, perhaps, if one were very lucky, they could stay for longer than it would seem. Perhaps forever, in a melancholy sense.

          Yet, with every day since waking in front of the gates of camp, sleep had become a burden – something to avoid if possible. Of course, I’d also wished so earnestly for it in those damned tunnels.

          The world around me had become a blur, a deep abyss. I felt as though I were floating within a cloud. The feeling of having musculature, bones that registered the weight of gravity, of having breath; all of these things were absent, leaving only a state of tranquility.

          From the darkness, a figure slowly appeared before my... eyes? Eyes, those I did possess. For many moments there, I’d forgotten that I did indeed possess a body, a vehicle for the brain.

          As the form became more defined, I could see that it was a male. Fairly tall, slim, with tousled hair, his features seeming well-defined despite his being shrouded in darkness.

          A faint sound, an echo. His voice bounced between both of my ears. “… _ey.”_

          It took a moment to realize that he’d addressed me, my mind processing his minimal greeting at a snail’s pace. “You…”

          His voice was starkly clear in response. “I suppose we have made acquaintances before… So, yes. Me.”

          Certainly… It was only now, in the midst of a dream, that I remembered meeting someone like him. I hadn’t remembered a bit of it while awake, but it was returning quickly. This same man, a phantasm in humanoid form, had been right there, after I’d met… Yulya. The girl with cat’s ears.

          A part of me had hoped that this person would be friendly, as Yulya herself had been obscured similarly, at least for a while. I found myself missing her quite dearly at the moment.

          An audible rumble could be heard between us. I felt a sense of dis-ease in my stomach, remembering a singular, ominous threat: **_Malice._** The event had somehow slipped from my mind when I’d come out of my nap in the tunnels.

          “I guess you want something from me.” I muttered. Might as well play sullen for all it was worth.

          He chuckled faintly. “I want nothing. Not now, anyhow. You, however, seem to be the one who wants. Care to recall? Can you?” He asked with a tone of amusement, as though playing a game with me.

          I studied what I could of his appearance. The longer I looked, the more I could see that every detail of him, even the clothes he wore, was visible. He wasn’t a complete void, but more like a wireframe photonegative. Fairly trippy.

          His clothing was what struck me; he resembled that of a pioneer; shorts, neckerchief and all. The appearance of such attire carried an intimidating air, what with the uniform having been a staple to me in recent times. It felt like I was being mocked.

          But his eyes… details that were starkly missing. Try as I might to level my wits with his, all I could see was a gap, a space of nothingness where normally would reside the windows to the soul.

          “Take your time thinking, if you must.” He prompted me darkly. “We have a while to go yet.”

          What could I possibly be wanting? At the moment, all I wanted was to be back at the camp. It was such a driving desire, I found myself wanting that over the more obvious option: _To Wake… Up!!!_

          I told him thusly. “I want to go back to the camp.”

          He grinned. God, that grin… a sinister detail that I could do without from this grim spectre. He looked as though he’d roll on the floor in laughter. “Interesting. I see that nobody is immune. You’re still an anomaly in all of this, for lack of a better word.”

          “All of this? All of what?” I asked. “What are you going on about?”

          “Think harder.” My eyes seemed drawn, focusing only on him. “Before all of this began. Before the walls, the camp, all the lovely pioneers…” His tongue lingered indulgently on ‘lovely’. “You were somebody else, were you not?”

          He probably… no, definitely – knew more than the garden variety pioneer. He knew I didn’t belong at Sovyonok, in this time, galaxy, or whatever this was. He had a connection to the overwhelming questions of “what” and “why”.

          “I was.” I answered. “From the way you’re asking, I’m guessing that you’re Semyon.”

          For a solid ten seconds, he didn’t reply. During which, the scenery around us shifted gradually to something tangible. I could hear an engine growling, and we were moving. On a vehicle, headed somewhere…

          “Quite the detail to recall.” He finally remarked, tepidly. “Intriguing. Clever that reputation has preceded us. Have you become aware yet, then? Of what all of this is? Of what happens when the session is over?”

          I’d had an idea. It seemed that nobody was willing to let me forget about the impending exodus I would eventually make. “As soon as I see it, I’ll write you about it.” I admitted sarcastically.

          He was silent once again, fading from view as the background shifted and focused, the rumble of the engine becoming well-defined in my ears. In fact, it was almost oppressively loud.

          Things cleared further, and I was slammed back into bodily feeling. I could smell the synthetic, stuffy interior of a bus. A touring bus, from the looks of it. Curtains, padded bucket seats… I was on the floor, bouncing about like the town drunk. Not an unknown position for me, it was turning out.

          Rumbling along steadily, the bus’s tires crunched along on solid pavement, the movements of the coach fluid and lulling. I grabbed hold of a seat and pulled myself up.

          With the familiar Russian countryside passing by the generous square windows, everything seemed to be bathed in a dull shade of blue in the early hours of the morning. I could scarcely perceive my surroundings as I made my way forward. As I did, I was surprised to find that many seats were occupied by carbon copies of my new friend. Or at least, with only a slight variance between one another. However…

          Behind the driver’s partition, there didn’t seem to be anyone behind the wheel. The bus was moving along of its own accord. It took a curve in the road with a degree of fluency, lurching and braking accordingly, the rolling motion causing me to lean against the seats nearby. I had to hold on tightly to stay on my feet.

          Reaching the front, I stopped short of the driver’s seat, noting how the controls were being manned by someone –or something – unseen. They moved accordingly, keeping the vehicle traveling smoothly down the road, as though I’d boarded the Russian “Christine”. No actual driver.

          “What is all this?” I asked the air, my voice unstable. “Where are you taking me?”

          My new friend reappeared, leaning nonchalantly against the driver’s seat. I still couldn’t see his eyes, and the rest of him remained obscured as it had been. “On the contrary; I’m not taking you anywhere.” His tone was firm, all too calm, as though he’d had this discussion many times before. “Can I put it simply to you? This place… the camp, the pioneers, the world around it all… is a complex, well-conceived, but fallible trap.”

          My heart stopped. Truth, as much as there’d been a driving force to find it since arriving at camp, could have been delivered more efficiently than dropping a bomb like that. Suffice to say, it sounded like a bold-faced lie, but I wasn’t in a good position to argue at the moment.

          Hence, my brain couldn’t quite process or believe what he was saying in that moment. I had to bite my lip to keep my jaw from dropping. “A trap? It… no, that can’t be. How…?”

          The bus continued its journey down a long stretch of straight road as Semyon returned all too calmly to his monologue. “At one time, I was exactly the same as you. I woke up alone in front of the camp, not knowing the reason why I’d come. I would spend a week walking a tightrope of heaven and hell, surrounded by strange pioneers, running their mundane games. All efforts to find answers, truth… always in vain.

          “Seven days would pass, and the time would come to leave. On this very bus, everybody would go home, or so it seemed… Only to come back and start another week in the camp. Over and over again.” The rhythm of his voice was like a mallet, striking repeatedly. “Again, and again, and again… The same week, the same people… a loop, if you will. A never-ending loop.

          “The first times, I failed to notice it. Just as you, I was blissfully ignorant. But I started to find things – remnants, things people would say – that would remind me of the past cycles. I began to see the camp for what it was. And so, I would seek the exit, any way that I could.

          “It wasn’t easy, of course. At times, I would see failure. I had to find truth all over again… and even then, I couldn’t be satisfied. So much is hidden away, you see. You could say that at one point, I lost my temper a little… Some were hurt in the process.”

          My skin crawled slightly. “Lost your temper?” I asked. “What did you do?”

          “I will deliver the benefit of not repeating any of it to you. We aren’t on trial, here.” He gave me that sickening grin again. “Not that any of it matters. Do what you want, but the camp restores itself rather efficiently.

          “Over time, I found ways to pass from my world into others with building regularity. That was the key. I found the others, showed them the way. All of us were on a similar track, with comparable burdens to shoulder. The most striking commonality of all: we would go through our trials, sometimes even winning, making what seemed to be an escape…

          “But still, only to end up on this bus. Somehow, no matter what we do, we all end up waiting for the next round. Here, on the 410.”

          A splinter twisted in my brain, as though a dentist had found a cavity with a metal hook and was tugging away intrusively within my head. **“DO NOT TAKE 410.”**

          Things were beginning to make more sense: the bus, in much better condition than one would expect, coming down the road in the early hours of the morning. The angst I’d felt from seeing it had certainly not been without merit.

          I’d been given a warning, one that had seemed all too specific when I’d read it. In such a mundane place, of course, I’d disregarded it. Now there came a more important detail: Who had left it there? Him? Or myself?

          Hell no! It couldn’t have been me. I could remember my life, could remember my circumstances when arriving… Those things had always been clear to me. Had I truly run through a course, as he’d described, I’d surely remember some detail. The countryside, the woods, the camp, the pioneers themselves.

          All of these things could have jogged some sort of memory. I could only come up with blanks. I had absolutely no recollection of what he was saying.

          I turned warily, looking over my shoulder at the others on the bus, feeling their nonexistent eyes on me. There was a feeling of apprehension throughout the entire coach. Obviously, I wasn’t there for just a pleasant conversation. “There’s so many of them.”

          He motioned to all of them with a single hand, equal parts pride and chagrin in his face. “Do you see any symbolism? We’re all on the same ride together. Yourself, included. You could say that we are like brothers; we all know ourselves by the same name, remember having comparable lives _before_ all of this. And yet… there are differences. We have differences in decisions we make, in certain thoughts, in what we enjoy.

          “There are hundreds of these worlds, alternate Sovyonoks, existing all at once. All with similar circumstances… similar events, girls… Surely you know about the girls. They are yet another method of control; distractions. Nice distractions. They force you into believing that by helping them, you can escape; that by righting some wrong, you’ll be set free.” His expression faded to a cold grimace, laden with contempt. “How very wrong that turns out to be.”

          I found myself unable to stomach this information. So much of it went beyond my comprehension, a universal melodrama that I was quite obviously unequipped to handle. Like a starving man suddenly being force-fed a pizza, I was in severe danger just from my internal organs and brain deciding to quit from shock. “That… that can’t…”

          “Can’t?” He chuckled. “Not everyone can take truth. But at one point or another, we’ve all had to. One among us in particular… seemed to have it all figured out. Of course, he needed help at the start, as usual. He left with that girl, the one who resembles a cat. Odd that she has already shown herself to you.”

          “Yulya.” Once again, I found myself missing her. Were there some way to summon her, to find myself back in that glade in which she’d brought me, I would have been ecstatic.

          His look was somber, bitter. “Yes, that name… We have had dealings with her. She denies it, she hides it… but she is connected to all of this, somehow. I would tell you not to trust her, but I know you won’t listen.”

          For a moment or two, I tried to focus, seeing if there was a way to go to her. Of course, she had been the one to capture me before. I had no idea where to even start. I wasn’t ready to let this guy convince me that her intentions were any less than helpful. Not after all she’d done.

          He’d paused, as though knowing what I was trying to do. He subtly shook his head. “Anyhow, it was said that this one particular… Semyon… would bring an end to all of this. His departure – and hers – would break the cycle once and for all, and we would all be free. So many of us believed in that. After a few thousand cycles, you would likely believe anything.”

          A pregnant, all-encompassing pause. Seemed like we’d arrived at the crux of the matter. There was an intense, incendiary hatred burning under his words. “He left, and W _e. Were. Left!”_ His voice reached a crescendo that rippled through the bus.

          To make matters worse, the others seemed to voice their dismay as well, voices raising as an ungodly echo that made me cover my ears. It felt like I was being tortured.

           _“Stop it!”_ I shouted at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t match his intensity, but I could sure as hell try.

          The racket immediately ceased, almost worse than the sound itself. The relief was instant, but I was left with an eerie hollowness inside. It felt like I’d been robbed of something.

          He smiled grimly. “Sorry about that. But… can you blame any of us? We’ve all been a little… homesick. Just like you, on that hill… with Slavya. You remember…”

          One of the most beautiful memories I had in my mental scrapbook, of the times I’d spent in camp. Slavya… our fated first talk, as the sun had started to rise on my first day in Sovyonok. “You… you know about that?”

          He nodded. “You see… With time, we began to find cracks, tears in the seams of ‘reality’, the worlds we were forced to live in. Our burial tombs, which we’d resigned ourselves to fill, were shattered in his absence. Like some sort of glitch. Imagine walking into a bedroom, only to find an endless void where the floor should be. A mountain… edited out, erased from the world. Trees unable to stand, fish flopping in an empty lakebed… Apocalypse.

          “Some of us stared deep into the abyss created in our worlds, the parts that had fallen away… And what did they see beyond? This world. Your world. _You_. Someone similar, in a world like ours, yet distinctively different. An anomaly, understand?”

 _An anomaly._ With my brain smoking, I was running to catch up. I still didn’t want to believe a word he was saying. But who could refute such a complex lie?

          Instead, I could only laugh nervously in an attempt to settle my nerves. “Does the Matrix have me, then? Is this that Jackie Chan film, with the kid who goes to an alternate…”

          He cut me off, grinning once more. “Truth is stranger than fiction. It is not outside the realm of possibility. After all, machines have faults. It turns out mathematics is _not_ perfect and exact. The more complex an equation, a script, the more likelihood of an eventual error buried deep within the code. That… is where you come in.”

          I stared down at the floor. If I’d eaten anything substantial in… God knows when… I’d be looking to lose it. Instead, all I could do was stand with my mouth open, feeling a hollowness inside. Semyon’s endless monologue of truth was proving impossible to digest.

          “I smell smoke.” He quietly remarked, seeing that I was continuing to weather this news like a canoe in a hurricane.

          “Too much to take in all at once.”

          He nodded, stepping aside in a vague semblance of generosity, offering the empty driver’s seat to me. “Before you fall down. You don’t look so well.”

          I gritted my teeth in contempt, then surrendered and seated myself, being careful not to touch a single control. I didn’t want to inadvertently cause a crash simply from elbowing something.

          He took my old spot, appearing to lean casually against the seats. “That brings us closer to the point, ‘Mister Ambassador’. You see, each one of us had our own world. Some have found ways of getting into the worlds of others. Others, too, have ventured far beyond the walls of the camp, out into ‘reality’. Yet, we all eventually find ourselves right back here, riding the 410 and waiting… waiting for our next lap.

          “Over time, we have realized that there is a sentience… a thinking, methodical source from which all of this originates. It makes changes as a means of protection, but still cannot cover all places at once. And, much like the work of any sentient being, there are limits. It appears unable to correct one mistake without making another… or several.”

          “In all of this, the 410 has been the only true constant. Take away all of it: the camp, the pioneers, the woods… everything. There can be whole segments of reality missing, and yet we always find ourselves right back here. Strangely, this vehicle is a safe place to be, despite being more of a prison than the camp could ever hope.

          “Some go for another lap in their broken existences, enduring as they can. Meanwhile, this new world of yours exists, mostly without the faults that we knew. Over time, we have realized that your world exists because it takes away from ours.”

          “…So you’re going to kill me, is that it? You want my world for yourself?” I looked back up at his shadowy visage with a wary eye, waiting for his hands to move, for a weapon to be drawn, or for him to simply come at me. How could I see this overdone lecture as anything than a veiled threat?

          “If only it were so easy.” He should have given me that awful grin again, but ironically refrained. “You see, 410 is a tool of transition; like Charon, bringing souls from the realm of living to realm of the dead. Some think wrongly of him as a god; He is a tool, a worker, provided for others, while answering to a master. Doing dirty work.

          “What brought us all here has also brought you here. You are to ride the bus like the rest of us, as ‘nature’ intended, and then we shall see. We are still bound to rules, that we know. You’ll likely exit this bus without us again.”

          “Again.” My brain seemed to pull its emergency brake. It had been hinted at, and somehow I’d glossed over it. I had to take it as a possibility: I had been in this place before, but any memory had been somehow wiped clean. He’d been right… what’s worse, it was making me livid. I felt used, like some sort of puppet.

* * *

 

          This ride was taking far too long. I was able to go back over all the details in my head multiple times, mull over all the little things that this Semyon had rattled off so incessantly. I didn’t want to admit it, but he had his details in line; he was telling truth. Were he a liar, he was quite the exceptional one.

          “Your silence is expected.” He observed calmly after some time. “In the end, the universe here, this prison… it has you. You’ll find yourself defending it while attacking it. It is quite brilliant, really.” He then chuckled condescendingly. Apparently he couldn’t hold a friendly façade for too long.

          “Enough. Haven’t you caused me your fill of problems?” I bitterly croaked, staring at my knees.

          “So rash." He teased. "How _does_ our anomaly handle such news? Don’t get me incorrectly, but this is quite an experiment. We may have to take bets!”

          I found myself glaring up at him. Pure contempt was growing deep within my heart, an unstoppable resentment that caused me to stand up strongly – apparently much to his joy, as he reverted to a grinning psycho at that moment. “Whoa!” He taunted. “Look out, we have a badass over here!”

          “You’re a liar. I wouldn’t trust you for the time if you had a clock jammed in your face.” I growled, lunging with the intention of grabbing him by the throat.

          My hand went straight through him, instead connecting with a metal pole running from the bus’ ceiling to the floor. It rang out with a vibration that could be felt in my teeth as my finger joints smashed against it.

          Unaffected in the slightest, my host bellowed heartily. “Terminal! It is terminal, ladies and gentlemen!” He announced like some sort of game show host.

          The bus responded with a ghostly uproar as I fell down into the driver’s seat again, holding my hand, which was stinging and going numb.

          He observed my actions and laughed, quickly sighing afterward. “Hey, I don’t blame you. Of _course_ this place would make you into such a young babe in the woods. Secretly, you know in your heart that you have a purpose. You’re a _tool!_ And who are you to argue with your creator?”

          “You whore.”

          He chortled. “Your anger is amusing. I’m starting to wonder now just what that purpose could be. They didn’t pick a very good hero.”

          “Th… they… have a track record, apparently.”

          Overly animated, he twisted his body as though receiving a pain in his side. “ _Ooh!_ A nice save… and apparently just in time!”

          Outside the windows, familiar brick walls that had been approaching in the distance were now much closer. The bus was slowing itself down, brakes squealing quietly as we passed a couple of familiar statues…

          We’d arrived.

          “One more word. A warning…”

          “No. You’ve said quite enough.” I stated bluntly. The doors were open, and the gates beyond were waiting. Closed, but waiting just the same, the light of the rising sun beckoning through the iron archway above. I stood, fully intent on leaving.

          My foot touched the first step down when I felt a hand – his hand – on my shoulder. Only half-corporeal, as expected, it didn’t feel like a normal touch.

          Still, the gesture didn’t go unnoticed, and I stood there, stopped dead in my tracks as we seemed to stare one another in the face.

          "This all had a purpose. Your case is exceptionally bad. I know now that you won't recall a single detail... But there does exist the possibility that you will. So take this, while you are able: It isn’t our intention to be an enemy of yours."

          "Could've fooled me."

          "With time, your perception will hopefully change. But remember… our worlds have crumbled, even for those who loved theirs with all their heart. Yours may likely fall, in time. And when that happens, the 410 will be waiting. You will see all of us again. By then, let's hope that you've learned who to trust.”

          I absorbed this for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of the air outside beckoning, begging me to emerge triumphantly into it, leave this enlarged taxi cab from hell far behind.

          I wanted to say something chilling, a parting shot to righteously level the playing field. It could have been better, but something did manage to leave my lips: “This is my stop.”

          The touch on my shoulder left, and the silhouette of Semyon, the mysterious pioneer who’d existed perpetually in a ghostly capacity took a few steps backward, standing in the aisle. “So it is.”

          With that, his figure gradually faded from view, along with all the others. I stared into the rear portion of an empty coach, all seats barren of any presence. The engine continued to rattle the floor under my feet, a feeling of urgency now reverberating through me.

          In a rush, I descended the steps all too quickly, and I felt myself falling back into a form of consciousness.

          Not knowing at all where I’d end up… but I’d made it back.

          I’d returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt a little cheap to go into yet another vignette so soon, especially one with so much dialogue, but the question of Semyon's role, as well as the "why" of things has been a pressing issue to me since I started writing this entire work. As indicated, we surely haven't seen the last of him.
> 
> Some lighter moments are to come, but this chapter was, for the most part, business. Hope it was still enjoyable for everyone.


	31. Redemption

          I stood on the porch of my cabin, blanketed in the shadows of early morning, listening to the fading nocturne of nightingales and insects. This early, the camp was shrouded in tranquility, something that could be felt deep within oneself.

          Gripping a railing nearby, I enjoyed the tactile, yielding nature of wood in my grasp. Better than steel or concrete; something natural and warm, that even if it were to encompass me, it could be broken out of.

 _“Unless it’s a coffin.”_ I thought morbidly, shaking my head to discard such a dark notion. Relatively speaking, things were back to normal, and hopefully I wouldn’t be going anywhere near those dirty old catacombs anytime soon.

          A burning sensation in my knuckles made me loosen my grip. They were bandaged with white tape -- couldn’t recall where I’d used them.  Those, my left elbow, and my entire right forearm were wrapped up in gauze. I’d apparently come back to life as a mummy.

          Details on what had happened after returning were elusive. I’d had plenty of time to reflect on it all, rewind the tape. Yet somehow, a fog had settled in. I couldn’t discern between what had happened for real, and what I’d pulled from my extended slumber.

          Viola had ordered me into some form of house arrest, keeping me confined to my cabin again. Judging from where I stood, that was certainly real. The best way to deal with my head injury was to sleep, so she’d said.

          The best part: Her word relieved me of all responsibility. No duties, no disruptions, only sleep. She could even override Olga Dmitrievna’s requests, certainly earning some Brownie points with me.

          But there was something before all of that. I remembered a bus, remembered a truck, Zhenya’s dad showing up almost too conveniently…

          I could see the camp’s gates… effervescent and starkly detailed, like it was my first day all over again. We’d arrived together, and yet in my mind’s eye…

          I’d been dropped off by an embassy car. A black Mercedes, with two Soviet guards who took to their duties loosely. They’d offered me several drinks on the way – a greeting fit for a Westerner, they said – before depositing me unceremoniously at the mouth of camp.

          Slavya came to greet me, and she didn’t even recognize me. I’d somehow gone back to the very first day of camp. Like all of my previous efforts and time had been for naught, I was entering the camp as a foreign ambassador yet again.

          Absurd. I remembered how I got here, waking up drunk on the ground, as I had. Not to say that that outcome hadn’t been absurd in itself. _“_ Alright,” I counseled myself under my breath, “So you’ve got an infection – a case of the dumbass. Temporary amnesia. Should talk to Viola.”

          I looked down at my watch, which had taken a licking but was still ticking: 6 am. I had to break myself of the early morning habit, and stat. I wouldn’t be able to get help from the nurse for a while yet.

          I closed my eyes again, focusing. Perhaps by recalling from the top, I could sort out details. I pictured that room, the one that I’d found with Sveta; the broken door, working lights, bunks…

* * *

A command center, or so it seemed. There was a radio stack, closets full of military gear that hadn’t been lifted by looters…

Miku, Lena, and Zhenya. They were all there. I could see them clearly in my mind’s eye. Sveta… crawling across the floor to us…

The girls treated our wounds the best that they could, and we carried Sveta out on a cot, making a long walk all the way back to the surface, through the old camp building.

Carried her out… that was where things really became shady, chopped up like a movie edited partway. We’d taken a walk through the forest, come upon a guardrail… 

* * *

          “Hey.”

          I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Electronik. He’d happened upon my cabin without making a sound, standing on the path.

          “You’re up early.” I commented, raising a hand in greeting. I hoped he hadn’t heard any of my self-indulgent muttering.

          The presence of dark bags under his eyes was proof of a sleepless night. His hair was a mess, skin nearly as pale as Ivan’s. “I could ask you the same question!” He laughed nervously, resolve quickly dissolving. He had no energy to banter, despite his attempts. Wasn’t looking too well, honestly.

          “Can’t sleep anymore. Figured I’d turn into Rip Van Winkle and end up in the next century.” For some reason, my statement bothered me on many levels.

          “ _Ha!_ Your problems…” The boy swayed, seeming to doze off momentarily on his feet.

          “Hey.” I snapped my fingers several times. “Stay with it.”

          With a start, he caught himself. “I… can’t find Shurik! That’s why I’m awake. Me… I mean, we… We can’t find him, right? Didn’t you…?”

          I wasn’t sure how to answer him. And of course, an entire day had gone by without my noticing. “He’s alive. As far as I know, anyhow.”

          A blank stare. Electronik was a zombie. His friend’s disappearance was affecting him on a profound level. “It will… be good if the he's found by authorities. You think he'll be allowed to stay? Or will he be sent home?”

          Brief flashes of Shurik acting like a crazed maniac were surprisingly vivid in my memory. That was something I wished would be in the foggier part instead.

          “We have so much work to do,” he added, babbling. “So… So much to accomplish in the time we have! It just… they’ll let him stay, I’m sure! Nothing happened last time…”

          How anyone could think of robots at a time like this was beyond me. For what it was worth, our brainy, analytical Shurik could be buried deep within his own demented mind. There may be no return for him, even if he was found. The Russian  _Politsiya_ could even end up shooting him!

          I stood in silence, failing to offer anything to the distraught young technologist. He turned away, looking to wander once more.

          I stepped down from the porch, hoping that I didn’t sound as half-hearted as I felt. “I’m sorry, pal. I really hope he turns up. He’s… just lost. I’m sure of it.”

          It was then that I was caught in a sudden and unprecedented hug. Certainly not the preferred blonde I wanted to hold, Electronik was in tears, bitterly weeping into my shoulder. “Understand?!? This all rests on him, all of it! The finest mind of our generation…”

          With words fading off, his bodily strength seemed to do so as well, melting away with each passing second. I found myself having to hold him up. He’d dozed off in my arms! Guess he just needed the right pillow. “H-hey! Get ahold of yourself. Aw, hell, just get off, at least!”

          I awkwardly guided him to the porch, where I set him down on the steps. Now prone, he weakly tried to keep his head from tilting back while looking up at me, jabbering. “We are nothing without him. Without him we’re… we’re nothing. We need to find him.”

          Jeez, and I thought _I_ was the one who’d lost sanity. “You need to rest. Talk to Svetlana, see if she can make sense of you. She and Ivan can help with the robot, like always.”

          As I spoke, a sudden look of confusion made his face wrinkle. “Svetlana? A _girl_ in the club? Impossible!”

          “Yeah, it’s every nerd’s dream come true. Seriously, look to her.”

          He shook his head, his blue eyes suddenly fixating on mine, widening with an insistent air of seriousness. “You don’t understand? It’s only us in the club! Shurik and me, as always. Like brothers. There’s no Svetlana or… Ivan?!? Are you insulting me, you western scum?”

          Even with an accusatory, wavering point of his finger as he fired off his tangent, I could only roll my eyes. “You’re really out of it. Don’t you remember at all? The girl wants your junk. We talked about this the other day. You said you were going to turn her down because of Zhenya!”

          Taking time to stand up, he wiped his eyes and laughed. “Shurik… You know, others say that he lost his mind. But I think you’re just as bad as he! Perhaps you can talk with imaginary friend ‘Svetlana’ and have a happy life! There is no such girl here in camp.”

          He was surely suffering from sleep deprivation, imagining things and acting foolish. However, I couldn’t just let him get away with it. Not to mention, I indeed had problems in my own head, but they didn’t involve imaginary friends!

          “Let’s take a walk to the lab, then.” I grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him along. “You know the place, yeah? How it almost burned down because of the test? Come on, let’s just see! I’m sure the robot brain will still be there, half-cooked!”

          He fought his way out of my grasp, yet kept pace with me. “Gladly! You’ll see, it’s all because of your blow to your head!"

* * *

Within minutes, we burst through the doors of the clubhouse. I’d expected the entire building to smell as it had – like burning electronics – but suspiciously there was nothing in the air.

          Neither was there the typical smell of heated metal or grease in the hallway. If anything, it seemed that the robot builders had done little to no work at any point in time.

 _“A-ha!”_ I nearly kicked the door open, gesturing toward the main workbench where the carnage from the failed test had taken place.

          Gone was the hinky drill press; it was in a corner of the room with other disused items, a fine layer of dust on top. There no work seemed to have been done past the robotic cat-girl, which was lying plainly on another workbench, in a sorrier state than I remembered.

          The lab was vastly different from how it should have been. Svetlana’s work – the ruined robot “brain” – was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Ivan’s setup with the modified video game console. Various unfinished projects took up space where the albino twins would normally mill about with their work.

          My eyes rested on the robot arm. It was the only thing probative, collecting dust near the storage closet. There was no wiring attached, only minimal circuitry. It was rather sad, in truth. It looked as though little work had been done before it was abandoned.

          “What the hell is happening?” I stood in shock, looking toward an incredulous Electronik, who was more surprised at my reaction than the absence of accomplished – albeit faulty – work.

          There was no way that either Shurik nor Electronik could go to such lengths to cover up the existence of their fellow lab workers. Not even the Soviet government could pull off such a feat with incredible precision. It were as though the pair had never even been born.

           _Proof._ More proof, there had to be…

          Something balled up in my back pocket called to me. Flat, wrinkled… a long piece of red fabric. I pulled it out, studying it in my hand. It was a neckerchief.

          In full, it was Svetlana’s neckerchief. The very same one we’d found on the way to the abandoned camp. The presence of long, silvery-white hairs caught in the knot were damning evidence.

          “This… this is…” I stammered, trying to figure out how to word everything to Electronik, who was now staring with confusion at the item I held…

* * *

          I opened my eyes, the sudden hoot of an owl bringing me around. I'd apparently fallen into my reverie so intensely, I’d lost track of which reality was which. I still stood on the porch to my cabin, arms now shining with sweat.

          Ironically, it seemed that I was the one falling asleep on my feet, not Electronik. I half-expected to see him coming up the path as though I’d been having a premonition, but after an extended wait, nobody arrived.

          Slapping the guard rail with an open palm, I descended the steps and quickly made my own way down the path. I wasn’t going to fall victim yet again; I had to find something to do while waiting to see the nurse.

          With the sun rising, I knew that the camp would awaken before long.  If I could find somebody else, someone to keep me occupied, I’d be on the safer side of things. Somebody who could help me put the pieces of the puzzle together.

          I had a few leads: Olga Dmitrievna, Svetlana, and Slavya. The former and the latter would be awake this early, able to provide me with answers. I wasn't about to go seeking Svetlana straight off; wouldn't even know where to look.

         There was obviously one whom I’d be truly happy to see, and with that thought, I set off, hoping that blind luck would lead me to the camp leader’s aide before long. She’d likely be out for her morning run, the route of which I didn’t know by heart. Still, it couldn’t be difficult to spot her if I tried hard enough.  


          I wandered for a while, walking along the beach by the lake, watching the ripples on the water. Nobody seemed to be having an early morning swim. The boathouse was just as barren, each vessel bumping deftly against their moorings.

          I then headed north through the square. The place was completely deserted. Not a soul in sight, just cabins in the distance, all around.

          The football fields were the same. The grass was growing green and lustrous, smelling strongly from the recent rains. The track was empty. No Slavya. My search was becoming tedious.

          I ventured close to the forest and contemplated going into the hills. From there I could have a solid vantage point, not miss a thing, especially Slavya, if she were awake. However, the spirit of laziness was strong, and my legs hadn’t quite forgiven me yet from all the trudging through concrete jungle. I would have to pass.

          My prowess as a hunter of blonde-heads left much to be desired, I found my way to the gymnasium, which was nearby. I hadn’t actually been in quite a while, and while Viola likely wouldn’t recommend it, doing at least something taxing would help time to pass.  


          One of the doors was cracked ajar, and as I entered, sounds from inside caught my attention. A record’s hissing and crackling, followed by a synthesized, powerful pop song could be heard over the gym’s speakers.

          At first I didn’t recognize it. I’d certainly heard the song many times before, but the name was escaping me -- “ _What a feelin’… Bein’s believin’… I can have it all, Now I’m dancing for my life…”_

          Right! The ever-popular song from _Flashdance._ Made sense… but who was playing something so new? So western in this part of the world?

          Wearing a shining purple leotard, long hair tied back in a ponytail, was Olga Dmitrievna. Having started the song from the top, she solemnly strolled to the middle of a huge mat, apparently about to start a floor routine. Her attention wasn’t on me. She was thoroughly lost in the music.

          With her eyes focused straight ahead, expression reflective and distant, she raised her arms gracefully above her head, preparing to enact a dance so fluent and energetic, she’d obviously done it many times before. I watched in curiosity, keeping myself close to the bleachers to avoid being seen.

          She set forth in a gallant run, expertly launching into several somersaults. As she flipped through the air, betraying the laws of gravity with a frame so large, she brilliantly twisted her body around faster than the eye could see, landing gracefully back on the mat with barely a bounce.

          Deeply entranced in the beat of the music that continued to play, Olga was full of energy and spirit that I never would have imagined from her, twisting and handspringing her way all around the mat. I kept silent and still, hoping that she wouldn’t notice me where I spectated.

          As she pranced back and forth with a ballet dancer’s grace, there was a palpable sassiness and attitude behind every motion. All of her muscles were engaged, hips cocked at an angle as she spun in place, sliding her hands up and down her torso. She gazed intensely and playfully at an imaginary crowd, making a motion of pulling them in, catching their attention before bending over backwards, cartwheeling several times, ending with a split that took her down to the floor.

          The stretching of her long legs and the flexibility of her body – like human putty – made me begin to feel rather lewd. The arching of her back, the occasional and quick lift and shift of her hips made my mouth start to water. Her leotard was being all too generous to me as it performed its task of containing all of her assets.

          I felt like I’d gone back to the magical days of middle school, when I’d first realized that, despite my younger years, I actually _wanted_ cooties from the girls. Dear God, how that time was hell. I hated not even knowing exactly _what_ I wanted to do with a female, nor how to accomplish the goal.

          Now here I was, being quite the voyeur while the leader of the camp – likely younger than myself in my own time – was putting on quite the show. Athletic and voluptuous women like her were all the rage through the 80s and 90s, and I’d wanted them too. Around age eleven, nearly anything female on two legs was fair game to my fertile and perverted imagination.

          Hell, I was even wearing a uniform that looked all too much like my school uniform from then. _Damn it!_ I felt like the universe was mocking me.

          With moves and a body like that, I’d die a happy young man. Physically broken, but happy. Perhaps I’d lean full-on into _Dva-Cheh’s_ accusations, find a way to be the teacher’s pet so well that decency, morals, career and status would mean nothing to Olga if she could commit multiple acts of sweet, delicious treason…

          My mind constructed several filthy scenarios in succession, and as Olga spun her way back to her feet, I was nearly in a complete trance. Were her aim to knock out the audience, she’d surely succeeded, even wearing a triumphant look on her face as she bounced along, moving as smooth as silk. She’d certainly earn a biased score from the Russian judges. From any judge, for that matter. It explained an awful lot as to how she’d taken to the air so easily many evenings ago. She was good. _Very_ good.

          Scarcely, I came back to my senses only seconds before her display reached its end. She twirled one last time, lifting her arms high above her head, presenting the most beautiful profile of herself, the music fading away.

          Of course, it would be just my luck that in the silence of the song’s ending, the door to the gym would be pushed by the wind.

          A loud metallic bang was the loud exclamation point to seal Olga’s vigorous performance – an exclamation point that could almost be seen above her head as she tilted her head back to investigate, looking at me.

          From where I stood, there was no way that I could try to play off my presence as just coming in. It was obvious that I’d been watching her. I accepted my fate, knowing that I’d lived a decent life, for the most part. I could think of far worse ways to go out.

          Olga turned and approached. I was expecting a more purposeful gait from her, perhaps an angry stomp… However, her walk was natural, womanly, with a swing in the hips that I recognized. She was disarmingly at ease.

           “You’re up so early!” she exclaimed cheerfully, her breath heavy. She stopped not far from me and sized me up, looking appropriately surprised.

          I lifted a brow, having prepared myself for a rebuke. Now that my death wasn’t so immediate, I was left floundering. “Er… right. I am, aren’t I?” I replied, failing my charisma check.

          With sweat glistening on her neck, chest and legs, there was an undeniable allure that I couldn’t ignore. My eyes were darting this way and that while I tried to combat the uncouth urges I’d been dwelling on. She was so close, so dazzling, and within arm’s reach…

          “How are you feeling?” she asked, looking curiously at my head. “Does your wound hurt? It was quite worrying.”

          We stared at each other for a few awkward moments in silence. My mouth had gone dry, and I was in a bit of shock; Olga should have been ripping me a new one, either for my rebellion over radio, or for being a peeping Tom. I should have been on the fast track to doing some time in the brig.

          However, she didn’t seem bothered by me in the slightest, and was continuing to wait for my answer.

          “I’m… better. Much better. One-hundred percent.”

          “Really? So quickly?” She asked, amused. “I should pay Viola her compliments. I was quite alarmed at how much blood you lost.”

          “Blood loss? From a bump?”

          She nodded. “You will have to ask her. A rupture of some sort, I believe. We were all worried about you.”

          “…you were?”

          “Yes, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” she inquired, holding her arms behind her back. How I wished she wouldn’t do that… And yet I didn’t want her to stop. Her shiny purple leotard already left little to the imagination, and the way that it stretched now…

          “W-w-well… I’m a bit surprised I’m still here.” I fumbled over my words, sounding like Porky Pig. “Thought the embassy would have sent a car to haul me in already.”

          “Haul you in? What for?”

          I laughed self-consciously. “You know. What we talked about on the radio…”

          Her eyes sank slightly, her tone of voice as well. “The radio. Yes, I do remember that, now.” She set both of her fists lightly on her hips. “For your information, I haven’t made the phone call yet. I was convinced to rest on the issue, see things from your point of view, give you a chance to explain.

          “Really, there is no need to defend yourself, if it suits you as it does me. To be quite candid, reporting such an event would likely end my career. This camp could very well go with it. I cannot allow that to happen.”

          I nodded, gaining a slight understanding. If word got to Olga’s superiors – whomever they would be – they’d likely hang her out to dry, no matter where I ended up. It felt strange to know that her livelihood was at stake simply because of me. “I remember what you said the other day, about how much this place means to you. I understand.”

          Olga’s gaze was fixed on my forehead, and for a brief moment I felt as though her intensity would burn a hole straight through. “You understand, but you openly defied me. I recall asking you where I’ve failed you as camp leader. I asked you to help me by being obedient. And what did you do?”

          “But… obedience wouldn’t have brought those girls back!” I argued.

          Now was the time for a flare-up of her usual vitriol. Her brows dropped further, and her voice raised. “It very well may have! It certainly wasn’t your plan to fall into a sinkhole, was it?”

          “…no. But… Obedience aside, it still could have happened! What if it had been Slavya? Or Electronik? Any of the others? It may as well have been me, and I paid the price. I gladly did!”

          Olga bit her lip, burning over my point with a thoughtful glance, joined with a hint of remorse. “As I said, we really have nothing to discuss. I had the same thought as you. If you truly had the well-being of others in mind, I am willing to compromise and allow you to stay. You followed a pioneer principle rather remarkably. I cannot punish you for that.”

          As quickly as our moment of tension had come, it was gone. For once, it seemed like our leader had actually put some careful consideration behind the matter. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

          The camp leader smiled, all too eager to jump to another topic. “Righty-right, then. So… I see you were watching a minute ago. What did you think?”

          “Er…” I nearly bit my tongue, hoping that she’d somehow forgotten about my most recent transgression. Hell, it was the elephant in the room, and there was no way she’d let it go! I hurriedly fished for words. “I thought it was great. Excellent. Spectacular.”

          “Well, those are some complimentary adjectives!” She giggled. “Which part did you enjoy the most?”

          It was quite obvious that I was starting to blush. The pounding of blood in my ears was a bit painful, with whatever Viola had done to me. I started to babble uncontrollably, trying my hardest not to sound like an undersexed buffoon. “Um… the middle? Where you… the part where…”

          Olga’s jubilant laughter made my heart sink. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Anywhere but there. I really did feel pre-pubescent at that moment. “Silly me! You wouldn’t know the terminology.”

          Turning away, she approached the record player by the wall and lifted the needle. There was a stack of records nearby, which she began shuffling back into their sleeves. She must have been at it for quite some time before I showed up. “In any case, thank you. It would have been nice if others had such nice things to say.”

          “What others?” I asked, attempting to regain composure as I followed her. With her back to me, I was clear to gaze upon her figure with ease. I couldn’t help myself. Composure would be impossible.

          “Trainers, conservatory… Olympic committee, once.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “You were in the Olympics?”

          Her auburn hair bounced with a curt nod. “I was a hopeful, once. I was determined, like so many girls at that age. All those years of ballet, then gymnastics, all of the competitions. I thought I truly had a chance to represent my country to the world. I spent much of my time as a pioneer here, in this very room, practicing.”

          “What happened?”

          She sighed lightly. “I gave all that I could, but… sometimes things don’t turn out how you hope. No injuries, no scandal, just… bad luck.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “It’s nice to think back on a dream every once in a while, isn’t it?”

          “You’re telling me.” I said, nodding absently. Her story sounded all too similar to my own life.

          Reaching out, she lifted my chin with a single finger, forcing me to look her in the face. Her voice was a pointed whisper. “Up here.”

          “Sorry!” I was quick to blurt out, feeling my heart drop through my feet. **_Busted!_**

          A knowing smirk lifted the corners of her mouth, and as she took her hand away, I noticed a faint blush in her glistening cheeks. “You are forgiven. Do try to mind your manners from now on.”

          My blood ran cold; conversely, I could feel my face going red again. It was a very odd moment between the two of us.  
  


          Deciding that it was best to leave her be – more for my own sanity – I went to the weights and began to set things up. The lineup was still a ways away.

          Try as I might, there was no way I’d be doing anything substantial, but I did my best to lift with form, stopping every once in a while to ride out the headache that I felt deep in my skull.

* * *

          After some time, Olga appeared above me as I lay on the bench, her hair wet and dangling. She looked like she’d just come out of a shower and had donned her uniform. So long, valiant leotard. “Are you alright?” She asked.

          I sat up, shaking my head slightly. “Not quite in top form, I guess.”

          “You said one-hundred percent.” She playfully teased. “If that is the case, I think you should see the nurse as soon as lineup is over. And then… come by my cabin and see me. We do have another matter to discuss.”

          With slight disbelief, I looked up at her meekly. “Your cabin? Is that… alright?”

          “Of course. All are welcome. I am surprised you haven’t been by at least once, yourself.”

          I suppose I would have, but history proved that I leaned toward not doing so. I didn’t want to think about those blasted keys any longer.

          She gently placed a hand on my shoulder, adopting an authoritative tone. “Shower, then lineup. Let’s start the day off right, shall we?”

          “Working showers? Here?”

          She nodded politely. “They were fixed yesterday, along with the bath house. About time somebody made it out to us!” Her tone was cheerful, for good reason. At least one perpetual problem had finally been addressed. “Let us not find you lurking about when the girls are in there!”

          Fairly, she’d caught me earlier, but did Olga really think I was enough of a pervert to go peeping on…? Well, yes. I answered my own question mentally and simply bit my lip, nodding.

          Hefting a duffel bag, Olga left, the aforementioned traitorous door slamming closed behind her.

          I ran a hand over my face, trying primarily to snap myself out of my late-pubescent desires. The thought of finding my way in after her while she’d been showering – like some gratuitous, cheesy American film from this decade – made its way through my imagination and was quickly discarded.

          I managed to calm down, and finally taking the opportunity to not feel like a wet rat, indulged in a long overdue shower – a quick, cold one, so I wouldn’t fall into Dva-Cheh’s prophecy of “a guy’s gotta do”. The temptation certainly was there.  
  


          Stepping back outside, I felt my feeling of cleanliness quickly fade as the heat seemed to soak right through me. The sun was up, wasting no time turning the cold morning dew into stifling humidity.

          The lineup was fast approaching. The prospect of breakfast afterward made my stomach growl bitterly. I’d forgotten the last time I’d eaten anything.

          Arriving at the square, I sat down on a bench, overlooking the entire scene. A few pioneers were attending to duties, raising the flags. Another couple were mucking about with brooms, sweeping the pavement to perfection.

          Genda’s empty stare, as he perpetually pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose… I’d often wondered just who the fabled man was, what his contribution to Sovyonok or the pioneers could have been to merit such an honor as being immortalized in this place.

          I stared blankly at him for the longest time, feeling some sort of block in my brain. There was something not right about the concrete figure, something odd about his posture, the way the light hit him.

          I closed my eyes, turning my face toward the rising sun, letting the warmth and the reddish glow through my eyelids soothe me.

          “I’m having another crazy daydream…” I mumbled quietly. “That statue doesn’t exist. It doesn’t.”

          The pedestal had been empty for as long as I remembered. To look up and see anything at all, well…

          I wasn’t sure what it could mean. Perhaps I’d gained some sort of schizophrenia from my adventures. I’d joked for years, but perhaps now I’d truly lost my mind!

          I waited for several minutes, only opening my eyes when the sound of gathering pioneers became too much for me. It was time to find a place to stand, before Olga could come along and browbeat me.

          Looking up, I could see that Genda wasn’t up there anymore. Like he’d decided to strike a quick pose and walk away, the pedestal was all but completely empty, save for a nameplate and evidence that, at one point, a tall and proud statue had once adorned the solid block of concrete.

          Dizzily, I stood and fell in line with the others. I’d certainly had another crazy daydream. At least, that was what I hoped for. With any luck, things would settle back to normal for a while.

          And yet, as Olga proceeded with her tireless dictation in front of camp while we stood at attention, I couldn’t help but glance past her time and time again, waiting for Genda’s shadow to be cast over all of us...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a mind-trip to write. A mind-trip about a mind-trip. Luckily, it finally came together, and I was able to pull a scene from the "pickle jar" in the process. All a setup for much larger things in the plot. Yes, there is plot. ;)


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